LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



Shelf ...LBl^i/ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



PRACTICAL 



LESSONS IK PSYCHOLOGY 



WILLIAM 0. KROHN, Ph.D. (Yale), 

PKOFESSOB OP PSYCHOLOGY, TNIVEKSITY OF ILLINOIS, CHAMPAIGN, ILL. 



CHICAGO 

The Werner Company 
1894 U 







Copyright, 1894, 

The Werner Company, 

Chicago. 



PEEFACE. 



Within the past year the author has, at various institutes and 
other gatherings of teachers, delivered lectures on Psychology, 
chiefly on those phases that must and do come in for a large 
share of consideration on the part of every successful teacher. 
The speculative form which Psychology sometimes assumes 
found no place in those discussions, but only such features as 
are quite in touch with the ordinary' experience of the average 
teacher in our common schools. The writer was surprised, and at 
the same time very much gratified, at the intense interest they 
evoked. At the solicitation of a large number of these same 
teachers, the lectures have accordingly been gathered together, 
and, with sliglit modifications and the advantage of much addi- 
tional material, are now presented in book form. 

The style has not been changed from that employed in the 
lectures, viz., simple, direct discourse, because the author desires 
that the teachers whom he has already addressed will feel that 
he had them in mind in preparing this book, as he had when writ- 
ing the original lectures, and also that the friendly acquaintance 
which was thereby established shall in no wise be dampered by 
the high-sounding phrases that are sometimes manufactured 
into book language. 

The terms " Mental Science'' and " Psychology" are vague to 
the person who has not been schooled in the discussions of the 
purel}' speculative branches. But here we shall dispense with all 
metaphysical language and get along without technical terms. 

(3) 



4 PREFACE. 

The writer has avoided "pedagogical consciousness," "icy cogni- 
tions of thought," "primordial elements," and the like, simply 
because he cherishes the desire that the book shall be character- 
ized by a practical ring rather than a scholastic rattle. 

It is hoped that all who read this book, and especially the 
common school teacher, will consider it nothing more nor less 
than a. collection of personal letters in which only the more im- 
portant mental facts are discussed ; the object and aim being to 
irreate and develop tnct on the part of the teacher, that he may 
be able to read the child's mind aright and thus be better quali- 
fied to minister to the wants of the growing child-nature as this 
unfolds itself day bj' day. The gi-eatest pedagogical need of our 
times is child study, and if the author only quickens the interest 
of teachers in this line he shall be more than satisfied and fully 

repaid for every effort he has made. 

William 0. Krohn. 
Champaign, III., January 15, 1804. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Preface, •. . 3 

LESSON I. 
The Service of Psychology to the Teacher, .... 9 

LESSON II. 
Psychology Defined and Described, ..... 15 

LESSON III. 
The Methods of Psychology, ....... 21 

LESSON IV. 
The Connection Between Body and Mind, .... 35 

LESSON V. 

The Nervou.s System, ........ 49 

LESSON VI. 
The Brain and Its Finctions, ...... 57 

LESSON VII. 
The Brain and Its Functions (Continued), .... 74 

LESSON VIII. 
Sensation, 

General Considkrations— Sensations of Taste and Smell, 95 

(V) 



vi CONTENTS. 

LESSON IX. 

Sensation [Continued). page 

The TEMPERATrRE Sense — Sensations of Pressure and Sensations 
OF Contact, . .... 107 

LESSON X. 

Sensation (Continued). 

The Muscle Sense — The Organic Sensations — The Joint and 
Tendon Sensations— Sensations of the Tosition of the Body 
AS a Whole —Sensations OF Rotation, . • .117 



LESSON XL 

Sensation {Continued). 

Vision, ...... 

LESSON XII. 

Sensation (Continued). 

Hearing, ...... 



. 124 



18(5 



LESSON XIII. 
Development of the Senses, . . . . . .150 

LESSON XIV. 
Development of the Senses (Continued), .... 164 

LESSON XV. 
The Contents of a Child's Mind on Entering School, . 177 

LESSON XVI. 
The Illusions OF Sense, 188 

LESSON XVII. 
Habit, 207 

LESSON XVIII. 
Attention, 231 



CONTENTS. vii 

LESSON XIX. PAGE 

Association of Ideas, ........ 244 

LESSON XX. 
Memory, 256 

LESSON XXI. 
Imagination, .......... 276 

LESSON XXIL 
Reasoning, 306 

LESSON XXIIL 
The Development of Will, 337 

LESSON XXIV. 
The Time Relations of Mental Phenomena, .... 357 

LESSON XXV. 

Methods of Testing and Measuring the Mental Faculties, 
Especially Memory and Attention in School Children, 370 

LESSON XXVI. 
Child-Study : The Basis of Exact Pedagogical Methods, . 381 

APPENDIX. 
The Kindergarten and Child Development, .... 392 



" That former age in which every one thought that trades 
must be established by bounties and prohibitions; that 
manufacturers needed their materials and qualities and. 
prices to be prescribed; and that the value of money could 
be determined by law; was an age which unavoidably 
cherished the notions that a child's mind could be made 
to order; that its powers were to be imparted by the school- 
master; that it was a receptacle into which knowledge ivas 
to be put and there built up after its teacher's ideal. In 
this broader era, however, we are beginning to see that there 
is a natural process of mental evolution which is not to be 
disturbed without injury; that we may not force upon the 
unfolding mind our artificial forms ; but that Psychology, 
also, discloses to us a law of supply and demand, to which 
if we wotild not do harm,we must conform." 

—Herbert Spencer. 



Practical Lessons in Psychology. 



LESSON I. 

THE SERVICE OF PSYCHOLOGY TO THE TEACHER. 

You have often heard it said that the teacher needs to know 
Psychology because it is his business to educate the mind, and 
yet this mere statement has not convinced you of the real value 
of Psychology. It can not convince anyone. 

Sometimes we are told by those older and wiser than we, 
that we should pursue certain studies because of their value as 
mental drill. We were taught geometry, portions of arithmetic 
like permutation, alligation, and many meaningless definitions, 
because they induced mental discipline rather than for their prac- 
tical value. Some may have told you that this is one reason why 
you should study Psychology. I believe I have seen this stated 
in many books myself. Let me tell you that if Psychology is to 
be of no practical value to you, you should by all means leave it 
alone. Steer clear of it or anything else that will not appeal to 
your practical interests as a teacher and student. The chief ob- 
ject of instruction is knowledge, and you can not acquire knowl- 
edge of any sort without gaining the mental drill as well. The 
" mental drill " comes of itself. But it is one of the chief articles of 
my creed that Psychology is a study of immense practical value, 
that it necessarily binges on and joins itself to every question con- 
nected with daily life. It can be made of the greatest practical 
value to the teacher, and that is the only sort of Psychology we 
want as teachers. Nineteenth century teachers need and demand 
nineteenth century Psychology and not the scholastic discussions 
that smack of the dark ages. The Psychology of the teacher of 

(9) 



10 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

to-day is not made up from old musty manuscripts that have 
been found buried in ancient copper cylinders ; its data are gained 
from observing the child's living, growing, active mind in all its 
phases as it presents itself to the teacher from day to day the 
year through. So, then, let me insist that you study Psychology 
for practical reasons. A man who intends becoming a high-class 
architect studies descriptive geometry, not merely because it will 
develop his mind but because of the use it will be to him ; so you 
should study Psychology because you are persuaded that the 
knowledge gained thereby will make you a more successful 
teacher, i. e., a more tect^/u/ teacher. 

But you at once ask — How will it do this ? How can Psychol- 
ogy make me a better teacher? Let us first answer the question, 
What is teaching ? In the first place we will agree that to teach 
is not to impart instruction, for there is no way by means of 
which the smallest scrap of knowledge can be conveyed from the 
mind of the teacher to that of the pupil. Cramming facts and 
hearing recitations is not teaching. We all know that all educa- 
tion is self-education, that the child's mind must be aroused by 
the teacher to act in and for itself. To teach is to excite the 
child's mind to activity — i. e.,into activity which would not have 
taken place without being thus evoked. 

The object and aim of all education, in home or school, is to 
make the best citizen possible. I mean, only that education 
suffices which makes a 7223,72— a perfected individual — rounded out, 
full and complete — mentally, physically, morally. Any system 
of education which neglects this in any respect is, just in that far, 
defective. We know then what we want the child to become— the 
ideal citizen. We know he is not this when he comes to school 
the first day, nor the second, nor the next. Indeed some of us 
despair of ever making ideal citizens of some of our pupils — but 
why should we ? 

Right here is one of the many places where Psychology helps 
the teacher. By adopting the methods of modern Psychology 
the teacher can learn just what are the contents of the child's 
mind on entering school. He can also, by the aid of this same 



SERVICE OF PSYCHOLOGY TO THE TEACHER. 11 

experimental Psychology, ascertain the child's capacities in all 
the more important lines — such as the memory power, and its 
power of attention. The teacher, then, has two things before 
him — (1) the pattern, i. e., the ideal citizen which he wishes the 
child to become, and (2) the actual child before him,i. e., the raw 
ma.terial. But the most important matter is the third point, viz. : 
What methods of teaching can be best employed to convert this 
untutored child — this raw, crude material into the finished prod- 
uct — the ideal citizen? This is the most difficult question of all. 
This is the question that requires the most tact and skill on the 
part of the teacher in effecting the proper solution. But at the 
same time it is the question toward the solution of which Psy- 
chology contributes the most readily and furnishes the largest 
amount of help. Even the most crude and undeveloped Psychol- 
ogy will tell us to select those subjects for study that will be of 
the most practical use. We would hardly teach the child to sing 
Italian opera before we would teach it to read and spell and 
count. We would not insist upon it making a Delsartian bow or 
knowing how to waltz before teaching it some of the first princi- 
ples of hygiene. Even the Indian teaches his child to bend the 
bow before allowing him to be adorned with feathers and paint. 
Humboldt tells us that an Orinoco Indian, though quite regard- 
less of bodily comfort, will yet labor for a fortnight to purchase 
pigment wherewith to make himself admired ; and that the same 
woman who would not hesitate to leave her hut without a fragment 
of clothing on, would not dare to commit such a breach of deco- 
rum as to go out unpainted. It is a well-known fact that colored 
beads and trinkets are much more prized hj wild tribes than cal- 
icoes or broadcloths. Captain Speke tells us of his African at- 
tendants that they strutted about in goat-skin mantles when the 
weather was fine ; but when it was wet took them off, folded them 
up and went about naked, shivering in the rain. So it is in a less 
degree with the young '< aborigine " who presents himself at the 
school-room door in all parts of our broad land. He must be 
taught the useful, practical things. It is only thus that his mind 
can become better developed. It is only thus that he can be made 



12 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

to become what we desire him to be — the ideal man. But would 
you develop him in only one direction? No indeed. You are 
seeking for a general development of all his powers — not a single 
one which is to be developed at the expense of the others. Pitch 
ing baseball gives a trained eye and obedient arm and hand, and 
yet you want your pupil to be more than a baseball pitcher. 

So, then, the real teacher, who has a true conception of his 
work and mission, turns to Psychology, and with its aid, and by 
means of its conclusions, settles three things: (1) What is this 
child pupil as he presents himself to me ? What are the contents 
of his young growing mind ? What are his powers and capaci- 
ties as he now stands before me? (2) What do I desire him to 
become? Into what product should I conscientiously labor to 
fashion and mold him ? and (3) What method must be employed 
in order that these aims and ideas may be realized? What 
knowledge is of most worth in developing the child mind into the 
perfected type of mental life and action? You will find that 
Psychology, in its modern experimental form, will be your chief 
help. By it you can observe the precise effect which the acquir- 
ing of this or that piece of knowledge will have on the mind, and 
in this way be enabled to estimate its value as an agency in un- 
folding the child's latent mental powers. It is, of course, very 
important to have an aim. You must know what you are aim- 
ing at as a teacher. Unless you have settled this you can never 
succeed. You may just as well tear your certificate, or other 
credentials, to shreds and scatter the bits to the winds, if you 
have not a definite purpose in mind with reference to your 
pupils. How could an architect build an attractive house if he 
began to construct it without a plan, and worked from day to 
day without having in mind a picture of the house he was going 
to build. If the blacksmith or wheelwright must have in mind 
an image of the thing he is about to make, how can you, as 
teachers, hope to succeed with the children, unless you have the 
clearest conception of what you wish them to become as a result 
of your leadership ? Of course no fixed plan can be given that 
will serve all teachers in all cases and circumstances. You must 



SERVICE OF PSYCHOLOGY TO THE TEACHER. 13 

make your own plan, and besides your plan you must have 
practical ability, i. e., the ability that is gained as a result of 
close study and obseryation. When a noted general was on a 
famous campaign, he desired to bridge a certain swollen stream. 
He called his engineering corps together and told them what he 
wanted. They retired and were occupied many hours drawing the 
plans, delaj'ing the entire army, and thus endangering the fate of 
the whole of that brilliant campaign. While the engineers were still 
at work draughting the plans, a sturdy carpenter approached 
the now impatient General and said, as he doffed his cap, "Gen- 
eral, the bridge is built [and, referring to the plans], but the 
picter isn't drawed yet." You see the application. It is the old, 
well-tried principle, safe always : " Learn to do by doing." 

As teachers you will often find yourselves handicapped by 
text-books which are apt to be very inefficient. Here, as else- 
where. Psychology will come to your aid in selectingthe material 
that will be of the most value to your pupils. We must, within 
limitations, draw up our own curriculum as soon as we know the 
mental make-up of our pupils. The order of studies that is best 
fitted to develop the pupils of one school may not be at all suita 
ble in another. " Life is short " — and school life is shorter— so 
we are under moral obligations to so arrange the studies that the 
time of each pupil may be employed to the greatest advantage. 
To do this we must settle the relative value of different kinds of 
knowledge. Spencer has clearly shown that much that is called 
"History" in our schools is of little or no value. The law of 
mental progress is always from the concrete to the abstract, and 
yet in spite of this, highly abstract subjects, as grammar, which 
should come quite late, are begun very early. Political geogra- 
phy, with its countless definitions, dead and uninteresting to the 
child, is also begun in the primary grades, while physical geogra- 
phy, naturally attractive to the child, is in a great part passed 
over. The teacher must in a measure throw out those parts of 
the average text-book that are unimportant and supplj^ additions 
to those parts that are important and useful, for the purpose of 
bringing about the most rapid, most healthful, child develop- 



14 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

ment. It is a settled fact that mind is a real, existing thing. It 
is also just as much an undisputed fact that the mind develops 
according to certain immutable laws just as the body develops 
in accord with certain immutable laws. If, then, the evolution of 
intelligence in the child conforms to laws, does it not follow inevi- 
tably that education can be rightly guided only by a knowledge 
of these laws? It is the height of absurdity for us to suppose 
that we can properly regulate the process of mental growth and 
development without understanding the nature of the process. 
The teacher who " keeps school " and is ignorant of the truths of 
Psychology will often withhold that class of facts that would do 
his pupils the most good, and at the same time forcibly adminis 
ter those that are distasteful, and therefore harmful, or give them 
the proper subjects in the wrong waj- and in the wrong order. 
No man should pilot a boat unless he knows the nature of his 
craft and is familiar with the waters in which he sails. Who would 
ride on a railroad train if he knew its engineer to be a novice who 
had never before had his hand on the throttle and knew not the func- 
tion of the safety valve? Or, if he were ever so skilled in the princi- 
ples of steam would you trust your life to him if he knew not the 
system of train signals nor the rules of the road with reference to 
meeting and passing trains and had no "time card" before his 
eye? Much more might a parent trust a physician who knows 
nothing either of anatomy or physiology to care for his child, 
than to trust a so-called teacher who knows absolutely nothing 
of the principles according to which the mind unfolds and 
develops. 

Remember then— The development of children, in mind as well 
as in body, always obeys certain great laws; that unless these 
laws are in some measure conformed to by parents and teachers, 
mental defects will occur, and that only when these laws are con- 
scientiously followed and completely conformed to, can the child- 
mind be developed to its full capacity — a mind rich in its strength 
and supreme power. Judge then for yourself whether all teachers 
should or should not strive assiduously to learn what these laws 
of the best mental growth actually are. 



LESSON II. 

PSYCHOLOGY DEFINED AND DESCRIBED. 

In the last lesson I sought to make clear to you that Psychol- 
ogy will help you, as teachers, along three different lines. It will 
help you to learn just what the average child actually is as heenters 
your school; it will help you to decide just what is best for this 
child to become, just what aim you ought to have in mind with re- 
spect to his development; and it will also help you to decide upon 
the best method of realizing this aim. But we have not yet an- 
swered the question — What is Psychology? To give answer to 
this question shall be my endeavor in this chapter. 

Every text-book you pick up will, somewhere between its 
covers, define Psychology as the " Science of the Mind." That is 
the shortest definition that can be given. In fact, I think it has 
little else besides its shortness to commend it as a definition. 
For it is at once found to be insufficient in that it immediately 
provokes another question, viz : What is mind ? And this is an 
exceedingly difficult question to answer clearly and in few words. 
You remember the story of the old philosopher who was asked, 
"What is matter?" and answered "Never mind." And when 
asked, "What is mind?" replied "No matter." But the question, 
"What is mind?" must not be hedged in any such way. Of 
course, it can not be formally defined any more than matter can 
be formally defined. But it can be described, and that is much 
better than a formal definition. We can best tell what a thing is 
by relating what it does. This is in a sense the whole business of 
Psychology — to describe the mind by telling what it does, and 
for that reason we shall be better able at the close of this treatise 
to define mind than at the beginning. But we can give a tenta- 
tive definition that will certainly help us. 

(15) 



16 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

By the term " mind " we mean anything and everything that 
is comprehended under the little word "I," when we say "I 
think," "I desire this or that," "I feel," "I see," and the like- 
that is, by mind is meant the subject of the mental states. 
When you describe the orange you say— it is yellow, round, 
juicy, luscious, has weight, etc.; but — what is the orange? Why, 
the thing that has the qualities — the thing that is yellow, round, 
juicy, etc. So we find the mind is that real existing thing that 
feels, thinks, knows, perceives, desires and chooses. We know it 
is a non-material thing and has no existence in space as material 
things have. You can not touch a thought or feeling as you can 
the orange, but you can have just as certain, yea more certain, 
evidence of the real existence of mind, than you have of the 
existence of material things outside of us. 

It is indeed the business of Psychology to tell us what the 
mind is — to tell us what the mind does; how it is that the mind 
has sensations of taste, smelling, seeing, hearing and the like; 
how it behaves under different conditions and surrounding cir- 
cumstances ; how it is affected by the different conditions and 
states of the body, and how it in turn affects the body. Psy- 
chology must tell us whether or not the mind acts during sleep, 
and if it does act during sleep, does it do so under the same con- 
ditions as in the wakeful state? Can the mind become fatigued, 
and if it does become tired, under what conditions can it best 
recover from this fatigue? Are there periods when the mind can 
accomplish more than at other times ? Which is the best time of 
day for hard mental work? In how far is mind affected in its ac- 
tivity by the conditions of the weather, by the season of the j'ear, 
b}' the food supply? And then, according to what laws does the 
mind develop — are there times of rapid growth ? Does the mind 
develop more rapidly at six years of age than at thirteen? 
Which is capable of the greatest mental effort — the child whose 
body is growing rapidly — the overgrown child — or the child 
whose body is growing slowly? In which do the mental pow- 
ers develop more rapidly— in the boy or girl? What are the 
laws of memory? Why do some people have better memories 



PSYCHOLOGY DEFINED AND DESCRIBED. 17 

than others ? Why is it that some can remember names and can 
not remember faces, while others can remember faces and not 
remember names ? Why is it that some have a good memory of 
the eye for objects once seen, while they have no memory at all 
of the ear — can not remember sounds; for example, the com- 
monest musical airs ? How does it come that many children at 
a certain age have an inherent tendency, amounting almost to a 
mania, for lying? Why does corporal punishment do a few chil- 
dren good and injure beyond recall the mental habits and mental 
life of others? Why is it that the child at three years will have no 
feelings of fear, and will play with snakes, toads and caterpillars, 
while at six the same child will shrink and shudder at the very 
mention of such objects? W^hy is it that at certain ages the 
child has a mania for making collections of objects, e. g., the boy 
collects arrowheads, rocks, tobacco tags and animal pets; and 
the girl collects remnants of gay ribbons, sea shells and buttons; 
while both pester their friends in endeavoring to secure a collec- 
tion of foreign postage stamps? Why does it occur that a child 
longs to do a thing that he is told not to do, and is not particu- 
larly anxious about the task he is asked to perform? These are 
just a few of the questions that Psychology, in one of its depart- 
ments, must answer. 

There are still larger questions with which Psychology has to 
deal. Have animals mind ? If so, is their mental life similar to 
ours? Do they reason, judge, compare and think as we do? 
These are questions that appeal for their solution to Compara- 
tive Psychology. 

What is the delirium which is induced by fever or alcoholic 
drink? What are dreams? What are mesmerism and hypno- 
tism? What is insanity? These are questions that belong to 
Morbid Psychology. 

What is the relation of mental power to the size of the 
brain, the number and depth of its convolutions? How do the 
amount and quality of the blood supply affect the mental pro- 
cesses? Why does a sudden blow on the head make us uncon- 
scious ? Why do drugs, coffee, quinine and chloroform affect the 
L. p.— 2 



18 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

flow of the mental states ? These are indicative of the questions 
with which Physiological Psychology is concerned. 

And then there are a large class of mental activities of which 
we are unconscious — indeed this, I sometimes think, is the largest 
class. To illustrate — I am seated reading an exceedingly inter- 
esting book. I cross my legs, run my fingers through my hair or 
pull my handkerchief out of my pocket, and do not seem to know 
it, for if you should ask me a moment later if I had done these 
things I would say I had not, since the activities mentioned had 
made no impression upon me. And yet each one of these was a 
voluntary act. My legs did not really cross themselves— /crossed 
them. My hand did not go to my head of itself, nor did the 
handkerchief get from my pocket to my nose of itself— /did these 
things, and yet they were sub-conscious activities. I am at the 
theater and am intensely interested in the play, but to see it well 
I am compelled to sit in an uncomfortable seat— I am obliged to 
peer to the left of a pillar or to the right of a big hat, but I do 
not feel these discomforts till the play is over. The " bleachers" 
of the average baseball ground do not seem to be hard seats 
until the ninth inning of the game closes, when our interest sub- 
sides. You have perhaps noticed the German Hniisfinu as she 
knits; it appears to be purely a mechanical action, and the knit- 
ter keeps up her knitting even when she gossips or reads. But 
you know, and she knows, that the knitting does not go on of 
itself. Notice how quickly she observes that she has " dropped a 
stitch." How slowly one must at first proceed while he is learning 
to manipulate the typewriter. How the pupil, when learning to 
play on the organ, while he gives attention to the "one, two, 
three, four" that he is counting, forgets to press the proper key 
or work the pedals. After a time all these things become auto- 
matic, i. e., they are done sub-consciously. You or I may not be 
able to sleep in yonder mill, amid the din and noise of its whirring 
machinery, and yet the miller is able to do so. But let one of the 
bearings become dry and make the slightest noise, a noise such 
that you and I would pay no attention to, yet it will awaken the 
miller, while the much greater noise to which he is accustomed 



PSYCHOLOGY DEFINED AND DESCRIBED. 19 

would not in the least disturb or arouse him. Psychology, then, 
must also treat of all the sub-conscious activities and endeavor 
to explain them. 

And then have 3'ou not noticed how the blind man feels with 
the end of his cane and how the wood-carver traces with the point 
of his chisel, just as you or I feel with our hands and fingers? 
Furthermore, have you not observed the professional manner- 
isms displayed by men of different avocations? You can gen- 
erally pick out the lawyer, the physician, the clergyman, the busi- 
ness man, by these professional mannerisms, which settle upon 
one even before he is thirty. 

And there is also the Psychology of prejudice. We like cer- 
tain people better if they are Democrats or Republicans, Congre- 
gationalists or Baptists. A certain college in one of the States 
of the Central West catered to the prejudices of its constituency 
when its officei'S sought throughout the country for a professor 
of mathematics who should be at the same time a Methodist and 
a Democrat. The very hope of aristocracy, indeed of the " Four 
Hundred " itself, lies in the Psychology of prejudice. Some people 
will not fraternize with us unless we can boast of "blue blood," 
or are the burdened possessor of a "Van," or some other Hol- 
landish or "outlandish" prefix. Suppose that for some whim- 
sical, fanciful reason you have taken a dislike to some name, e.^., 
Ethel, or Bridget, or Marie. When you meet a pei'son bearing 
any one of these names you at first, perhaps unconsciously, form 
a dislike for the person herself. The Bostonian must live on 
Beacon street or Commonwealth avenue if he wishes to gain an 
entree into a certain social "set." The Dartmouth student can 
never be quite so friendly with the man from Amherst as he can 
with the man from Williams. In fact, all sorts of clannishness 
finds its basis in the Psychology of prejudice. 

I think now it is entirely clear that the scope of Psychology is 
very broad — that it touches every branch of our daily life and 
activity. And how much better is such Psychology than the nar- 
row sort which restricts itself to the merely speculative form and 
discusses the faculties and "categories of thought" in a hazy, 



20 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

vague sort of way. But let us as students, if possible, enter this 
broad field before us without preconceived notions. 1 hope we 
have no cherished theories which we wish to substantiate. Let 
us first inquire into all the facts before framing our theories. 
"First describe, then explain," is ever the true order of the 
scientific procedure. Of all persons, the psychologist must have 
an unbiased mind. He must be thoroughly imbued with the 
spirit of investigation — the true scientific spirit. But when once 
he discovers that the facts support a certain principle, and that 
that principle alone is compatible with the discovered facts, then 
he is morally bound to adhere to a position that is in harmony 
with this established principle. The psychologist must have clear 
mental vision, with no cataract over the eye of judgment, and 
must have command of a wide range of thought. I have in my 
laboratory an instrument invented by Wheatstone, called the 
pseudoscope, in which the mirrors are so arranged that each eye 
sees the image which the other eye ought to see and would see 
under normal conditions. By means of this a sohd object, as a 
pyramid, will appear hollow— and vice versa. From propositions 
advanced by certain would-be psychologists, who have had neither 
special training nor possess very great natural ability, it would 
seem that some sort of mental pseudoscope had been employed. 
At the close of his investigations the psychologist must have for 
his conclusions clearly estabUshed principles, in the light of which 
he may interpret new experiences as they arise. When these 
principles are clear-cut, definite and thoroughly established he 
must " hew to the line" and not vacillate to and fro, a mere rud- 
derless bark moved about by the wind of othermen's breath. He 
must settle all the more important questions of Psychology for 
himself, on an independent basis. When this is done we shall 
never become "hewers of wood or drawers of water" for any 
particular school of thinters. With a clean, well-trained eye and 
the mind's "retinal field" cleared of all floating specks, the stu- 
dent of Psychology must ever seek for the truth, and the truth 
alone, if he would not be handicapped, for in this as in all other 
lines of investigation — " the Truth shall make you free." 



LESSON III. 

THE METHODS OF PSYCHOLOGY, 

In the previous chapters we were occupied (1) in indicating the 
real service of Psychology to the average teacher, and (2) with 
the query, What is Psychology? which suggested some of the 
many questions with w'hich the psychologist has to deal, thus 
giving us an idea of the province of Psychology in the realm of 
the sciences. We must now allude to some of the methods em- 
ployed by the psychologists in order to learn just how they gain 
their conclusions ; for, if we know the several methods thoroughly 
well, we will be able to decide which one is the best for our pur- 
pose, therefore the one we should employ as teachers in our own 
investigations into the many interesting mental phenomena that 
present themselves from day to day. An acquaintance with these 
methods is exceedingly important. We can never take a scien- 
tist's conclusions as valid unless he tells us how these conclusions 
were reached. W^e must know his modus operandi before we per- 
mit his deductions to pass muster. It is not sufficient for the 
astronomer to tell us that he has discovered a new star— he must 
tell us just how, and under what conditions he came to observ(^ 
it, and is obliged to designate in mathematical terms the exact 
location it occupies in the heavens. The histologist may an- 
nounce that in a particular portion of the brain he has observed 
certain peculiarly shaped nerve cells. Before this announcement 
is of any value at all, he must submit a detailed description, 
among other things, of the way in which the brain tissue was 
prepared for examination, stating what reagents were employed 
in hardening and staining the specimen, and the thickness of the 
sections he examined, as well as the kind of microscope and objec- 
tive he used in his observations. In fact, all truly scientific work 
must be frank, open and " above board." Hypocrisy and decep- 

(21) 



22 PRACTICAL LESSONS L\ PSYCHOLOGY. 

tion are quickly discovered in the scientific field. A knowledge of 
methods is necessarj^ before accepting conclusions. 

You have noticed that all methods of investigation are becom- 
ing more and more exact. The scientific laboratory is quite a 
modern innovation. There was a time when about all the appa- 
ratus needed by the chemist consisted of a "spoon and a bottle." 
Even more recently has the physical laboratory been established 
with its essentially large, extensive, and indispensable equipment. 
And nearly all of us can remember the time when such a thing as 
a general biological laboratory was but little thought of and 
comparatively unknown, while special laboratories devoted to 
anatomy, physiology and bactei'iology were not considered pos- 
sibilities, but were regarded as phantasms of fanciful dreamers. 
Formerly all investigation took the speculative turn. In fact, 
they were not real bona fide investigations at all. The old scho- 
lastic philosophers were oftentimes busily engaged with utterly 
senseless questions, waxing warm, and hurling anathemas at 
each other, in their discussions with reference to the number of 
angels that could stand on the point of a cambric needle. Yet 
these same men, renowned for their learning, imprisoned and 
martyred others who sought by means of practical experiments to 
find a key with which they might be enabled to read the book of 
nature. Aristotle was the son of a renowned physician, and yet he 
knew of no function that could possibly be assigned to the brain, 
unless it be that of lubricating the eyes. The principle of life was 
discussed, and a "vital fluid '' w^as resorted to as an explanation, 
but no one was permitted to study the living organism itself. 
The true scientific spirit, wherever it manifested itself and lifted 
up its voice of inquiry, was stifled, and the man who dared to 
experiment within the world of nature and delve into her secrets 
was soon proscribed by the church and disowned by his country- 
men (who should have hailed him as a benefactor), and then hur- 
ried off to the dread inquisition — 

"Theirs not to make reply 
Theirs not to reason why 
Theirs but to do and die." 



THE METHODS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 23 

But we have nothing of the kind at the present day. The sci- 
entific spirit is "in the air." It can never again be throttled. 
How glad we are that science studies are being introduced into all 
our schools; even if it is coming slowly, the era is near at hand 
when every child will be brought face to face with nature, and the 
purely mechanical, artificial methods of teaching will be aban- 
doned for all time. You ought to felicita te yourselves as teachers 
that you live in this eventful and auspicious epoch at the begin- 
ning of a new era in education with its natural methods — its 
kindergartens, its science studies, its natural history and travel 
readers. 

While it is very evident that the methods of all the other 
sciences have in these latter days assumed more and more the 
character of exactness, can the same be said of the science of 
Psychology? Is it a more exact science than formerly? Are its 
conclusions to-day more trustworthy than the metaphysical 
guesses of the old-time Psychology? You will say at once that 
you can easily see that the physicist is able to assiduously pur- 
sue exact methods and apply them to his subject-matter; that 
surely the histologist should have a trained eye, a good memory, 
superior powers of comparison and an excellent microscope; 
that it goes without question that the anatomist must make use 
of the scalpel and microtome ; that the botanist and the bacteri- 
ologist should by all means have abundant laboratory facilities; 
that the astronomer is morally bound to use the largest availa- 
ble equipment, but you seriously question whether there can ever 
be any considerable exactness within the domain of psycho- 
logical study. Many people question this, and are anxiously 
asking. How can Psychology be brought out from under the 
clouds of never-ending speculation, and be placed upon a solid 
basis, after the manner of the other sciences? Do the phenomena 
of mind admit of treatment by the modern inductive scientific 
method? Are there such things as mental facts, and can they 
be subjected to close analysis, well planned tests, ingeniously de- 
vised experiments and accurate measurement? These inquiries 
are often made, and being made seriously, are therefore entitled 



24 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

to the most respectful attention. But will you hold these ques- 
tions "in solution " for a moment while we briefly pass in review 
the method or methods generally employed in lieu of the modern 
experimental methods of laboratory Psychology. When we see 
the insufficiency of these methods, in that there are many ques- 
tions which they are wholly unable to solve, then we will be better 
prepared to outline the field and functions of the experimental 
and more scientific method. Remember that as psychological 
students we are seeking to discover what mind is, what it does, 
how and under what conditions it acts, and the laws according 
to which it unfolds and develops. 

The method which is the oldest — the one that has been em- 
ployed (though at times in a crude, crass way), ever since Psy- 
chology began to take form — is that of introspection, which sig- 
nifies looking into, and the adjective, introspective, is the name 
given to the methods of that large group of psychologists who 
believe all the questions concerning mind can be answered by the 
mind undergoing a sort of rigorous self-examination. The intro- 
spective method is sometimes called the "subjective" method. 
This comes from the fact that the mind, as that which knows, 
thinks, feels, wills, and desires, is called the " subject" of the mental 
states in order to distinguish it from the " object," as that which 
is known or felt or affects the mind in any way. The tree I see, 
the river I delight in, the flower I admire, are objects to myself, 
who am the subject that admires them. By means of the subjec- 
tive or introspective method, we look within and take an inven- 
tory of our thoughts and ideas just as the merchant takes stock 
of the goods in his store. By this method we direct our atten- 
tion to what is going on in our own mind at the time of its occur- 
rence or after it has taken place. We have no power of turning 
our attention inward and focusing upon the mental states them- 
selves as they pass along the " stream of consciousness." Some 
psychologists, as Sully for example, say that we can attend to a 
certain particular feeling, such as emulation or sympathy, in 
order to see what its nature is, of what elementary parts it con- 
sists, and how it is induced. This is true only to a certain extent, 



THE METHODS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 25 

for the great diflSculty of the subjective method is that a mental 
fact vanishes as soon as you begin to examine it int respectively. 
Suppose you are at the theater and the play is a melodrama. 
There are touches of sadness which call forth deep emotions and 
bring tears to your eyes. Attend closely to the feeling with a 
view to noting its constituent elements and it vanishes. The next 
time you are thoroughly angry make use of the introspective 
method and focus your attention "in order to see what itsnature 
is, and of what elementary parts it consists," and at once your 
muscles begin to relax, your teeth are not set quite so firmly, 
your fist is no longer so tightly clenched, and before you are 
aware of it, you are in a perfectly placid state, with no emotion 
of anger to analyze. On the other hand, as you well know, a 
sensation of pain when closely attended to becomes more intense. 
Take it all in all, you are in something of the same position as 
the entomologist, who, as he attempts to examine a small living- 
insect under the microscope, finds that it is always crawling away 
from the objective and getting out of focus. If a flower that 
the botanist has in his hand were to vanish the moment he began 
to examine it closely, he would meet a difficulty quite analogous 
to that of the student of mind using the introspective method. 
In fact, a psychologist in his endeavor to '< catch up" with his 
mental states in order to examine them more closely, is like a 
greyhound trying to outrun his own shadow, for the mental facts 
disappear the moment he seeks to examine them — he has the 
deliverances of memory as his only data ; in fact, " his introspec- 
tion becomes retrospection." Certain it is, that errors of the 
purely introspective method — and there are many bald errors 
arising from the deranging effects of close, scrutinizing attention — 
can only be remedied by an appeal to memory. Like the cerebral 
anatomist, the purely introspective psychologist must examine 
" dead tissue" instead of the living organism, and as dead tissue 
is widely different from living tissue, so a mental state is sadly 
distorted when viewed in retrospect. Mental states that are 
alwaj^s escaping direct examination may be reproduced in the 
form of memory images, and in this way be analyzed. 



26 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

Far be it from me to deny the utility and value of the intro- 
spective method, and yet no one can help but see that, good as it 
is, it has many limitations. There are many questions in Psy- 
chology which. are raised by the introspective method which it 
cannot answer of itself, and cannot be answered but by appeal 
to experiment and the external aids. To begin with, the intro- 
spective method inverts the order of actual experience and mind 
development. Reflection is not attained until the higher mental 
powers are mature, and by it alone there can be no knowledge 
gained with reference to the rise and growth of the intellectual 
powers in childhood. Child-study, the most fruitful line of inves- 
tigation for the teacher, can find no raison d'etre, if Psychology 
be restricted to the introspective method. And then, if this sub- 
jective method alone be used, the science becomes purely descrip- 
tive. Now, the fact is, that science demands explanations, causes 
and sufficient reasons more than descriptions. 

How then, you ask, can the introspective method be best sup- 
plemented in order that Psychology may become more useful to 
the teacher? The subjective method represents but a half truth 
and must be supplemented by an appeal to what we shall desig- 
nate in ai general way as the objective method, in order that the 
whole sphere of psychological truth may be ours. Rather we 
should say objective methods, for wo mean to signify by this 
terra all those ways of studying mental phenomena, aside from 
the scrutinizing self-examination which occurs when we "take 
stock "of the ideas and thoughts of our own individual minds. 
One form which this objective method takes is the study of the 
minds of others who are of "like passions as we are," that is, be- 
long to the same order of society. In this we reason by analogy. 
We note the looks, gestures, bodily posture of others, and we 
conclude these are manifestations of feelings similar to those we 
ourselves often experience. I give the boy a new, gaily-colored 
kite ; his countenance brightens up, he becomes so demonstrative 
that he can hardly contain himself, and I say he is grateful because 
I acted in the same manner under the same circumstances when 
I was a boy. After a few hours I see him again. His face has a 



THt: METHODS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 27 

woe-begone expression, quite different from the joyous counte- 
nance with which he left me. Tears following the lines of least 
resistance, have made valleys on his begrimed face, and as he 
comes sobbing to me I pity him, and say he is suffering acutely 
just as you or I suffered when years ago our kites landed in tree- 
tops or became entangled in the telegraph wires. If at a public 
gathering you see a person sitting back in his chair, his legs ex- 
tended at full length, his arms hanging limply at his side and his 
head resting against a convenient pillar, you conclude that he is 
not so deeply interested as the listener who sits bolt upright in 
his seat, or leans slightly forward and has his eyes riveted upon 
the speaker. By means of such outer signs as these we ar^ en- 
abled to determine the mental states of others. We proceed on 
the principle that mind, in a general way, is the same in all 
persons. 

If a certain object produces in one the sensation of red, and 
another object produces the sensation of heat, and another the 
sensation of taste, and still another arouses the feeling of in- 
tense pity, I argue that they would produce similar sensations 
in another person. We feel warranted in taking the manifesta- 
tions of others at their " face " value, and we interpret them in 
the light of the facts of our own experience. As teachersyou must 
do this continually. Of course, the minds that are the most im- 
portant for you to study are the minds of children under your 
immediate direction, and you must and can study them only in 
light of your own experiences. To succeed as a teacher you must 
know what is passing through their minds, and this you can 
gain only by observation of countless externa! signs. You must 
notice their amusements and games, the kind of books they 
enjoy reading, the manner in which they take punishment, the 
studies they delight in and those they detest ; whether their sen- 
sations are keen or obtuse, whether their memories are good or 
bad; in fact, you must notice everything that will help you to 
know the nature of their minds. In another chapter I shall out- 
line for you certain tests that every teacher may employ in any 
schoolroom— tests that will enable the teacher to discern the 



28 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

exact stage of development his pupils may have attained along 
any special line; for example, his powers of observation, memory 
and attention. And as you interpret the experience of those 
living minds with which you are in daily contact, you must also 
interpret the character of men who have lived years agone. 
You must gather all the facts you can about Napoleon, from 
every available source, and thus get the truest possible picture 
of his mind and its activities, before you are in the least degree 
able to interpret the historical events in which he played so im- 
portant a part. When I desire to clearly understand the rites 
and orgies of the savage tribes I must, with the aid of the imagi- 
nation, orientate myself into their experiences as nearly as pos- 
sible in order to understand the significance of these experiences. 
Cannibalism is quite inconceivable until, by investigation and in- 
quiry, we gain the point of view of the savage himself, and then 
we discover that it is in obedience to a religious impulse rather 
than a physical appetite, that he commits his revolting crime. 
From the standpoint of an American mother, it is impossible to 
conceive how the Hindoo woman can throw her infant into the 
Ganges. To understand this seemingly cruel action, we must 
know the mental operations of the mind of the Hindoo mother. 
Could you but know the mental make-up of Benedict Arnold you 
would have more charity for him, and would paint his traitorous 
deed in kindlier colors. We must as nearly as possible place our- 
selves in the same position as others, both as to surrounding- 
conditions and temperament, in order to understand the actions 
that have caused them to be remembered in history. When you 
tell your school children how the great and immortal Lincoln 
behaved toward soldiers sentenced to be shot, they say he was a 
man with a big sympathetic heart, just as if they had seen him 
and known him all their lives. The school boy enthuses over 
William Tell, and admires his sturdy qualities just as if he were 
a real, historical character, instead of a fictitious personage. In 
exploring an Aztec treasure house we gain an idea of the mental 
life of this prehistoric people — as true a picture, so far as it goes 
— as if they lived and moved and had their being at the present 



THE METHODS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 29 

time. Thus you see that whatever you learn concerning the 
mind of others you learn by means of the objective method in 
one of its phases. 

Another invaluable form which the objective method takes, 
gives us what is known as "animal" or "comparative" Psy- 
chology. The study of animals is of the utmost importance to 
the psychologist. The study of the mental life of animals is as 
important to human Psychology as the study of comparative 
anatomy is to human physiology. The mental states of animals 
are simpler than those of man, and are therefore easier to treat 
than the more complex processes of our adult mental life. Many 
forms of memory, for example, are in certain animals much better 
developed than in man. We also have some few emotional ex- 
periences in common, such as fear and the like. You are in a car- 
riage driving a lazy horse and take the whip from the socket; he 
hears you do so and starts on at a lively gait. Is the mental 
process in this case unlike that which goes on in the mind of a 
boy who is doing some overt act sub rosa, oblivious of having 
been discovered by the teacher, until he hears her reach for the 
ferrule, when, quick as a flash, he straightens up, his face assuming 
a serious and studious air as he becomes deeply engrossed in his 
studies for the time being? 

I remember, when yet a boy, of strolling one morning along 
the banks of White River at Indianapolis. Soon I noticed that a 
blind horse had wandered into the river, and, getting beyond his 
depth, was in danger of drowning, for he could not tell in which 
direction the shore lay. Men planning to save him were seeking 
for boats and a rope with which to go to his rescue. At this 
juncture a saddle horse which had been left standing in front of 
a store near the bank, having heard the piteous sounds of the 
blind horse, galloped to the water's edge, and then swam to the 
bewildered and struggling animal, taking hold of the mane with 
his teeth, led the sinking horse to the opposite bank where it was 
easier to land than at the one whence he had come. This seems 
to me a mental process very akin to reasoning in man. 

The mental states of animals are more naive and not so inter- 



30 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

related and complex as our own, and can therefore be traced to 
their origin and sources much better and more readily than is 
possible with our own activities. 

But even more important than animal Psychology is the study 
of infants. The significance of the important facts gained by the 
study of mind in its earliest stages has already been insisted upon. 
By means of infant Psychology, mental facts are reached as far 
as they ever can be, in their simplest, most primitive and original 
form. You must know what the mind is before you can know 
what it becomes. You must know its actualities before you can 
know its possibilities. The growing child is continually giving us 
object lessons in the development of mind. And do you not 
know that every great educational reform has been the direct 
result of close personal relations with children and youth, and 
more thoroughgoing insight into their needs, experiences and 
modes of thought and feeling? The greatest teachers of the 
world have actually lived with their child pupils, and studied 
them continually. Froebel recommended that when a child was 
born, each parent should open a life-book in which should be re- 
corded the stages of its physical and mental growth, good and 
bad influences and qualities; all striking incidents, experiences 
and peculiarities; and their own endeavors and motives in rearing 
the child. This book should be kept without the child's knowl- 
edge, to be given him at maturity as a guide to aid him in his 
choice of a profession or calling. 

A sound knowledge of the early manifestations of mind is a 
necessary prerequisite for the scientific explanation and interpre- 
tation of later mental development. In the matter of child 
study the psychologist is dependent upon the special educators 
of the young, both teachers and parents, and from them he does 
receive much valuable aid. There is much that can be done by 
parents in the way of recording the course of developmentof indi- 
vidual children. The work already done in this line by Dr. Preyer 
and M. Perez with reference to the first three years of childhood, is 
stimulating and suggestive. Ever}^ school-teacher, to be worth}' 
of his place, should be eager to compile statistics, especially with 



THE METHODS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 31 

reference to the times at which certain faculties manifest them- 
selves. In so doing he would magnify his office in the best sense, 
for he would place everj' psychologist under obligation to him, 
because of tlie valuable fund of facts supplied. Whatever you 
may think of this, certain it is that there never has been a period 
when careful, painstaking study of the nature of children was so 
much needed as now, and nowhere so much as in our own coun- 
ti'y. Small beginnings, however, have already been made, and 
scientific child study is making most hopeful progress. 

The most important development of the objective method 
of psychological investigation finds its expression in what is 
usually called "laboratory" or "experimental" Psychology. I 
shall not stop at this juncture to argue with reference to the 
necessity of well-selected apparatus to the psychologist. I will 
state, however, that there are some of the most weighty ques- 
tions of Psychology which were thrown overboard by the intro- 
spective school as unanswerable, that have been answered by 
experimental Psychology alone. And this is a most remarkable 
fact when you recall that twenty years ago there was no such 
thing as a psychological laboratory. Until very recently, the psy- 
chologist was compelled to gain his material and especially the 
leading facts concerning sensation, from among the crumbs that 
fell from the tables of neurology and physiology. The first labora- 
tory was founded at Leipzig in 1878, by William Wundt. From this 
little workshop went forth an influence that has been gaining in 
strength and volume each succeeding year. The leading German 
universities all have psychological laboratories more or less 
pretentious, the best being at Leipzig, Freiburg, Gottingen and 
Bonn, while Heidelberg, Berlin and Munich have made excellent 
beginnings. There are also good laboratories at Prague, Rome, 
Geneva, Copenhagen, Paris and Groningen. In this country the 
first beginnings were made in 1885 by G. Stanley Hall and Dr. 
Cattell, at Johns Hopkins University. The University of Penn- 
sylvania soon followed suit. We now have at this writing six- 
teen laboratories in this country with an equipment of apparatus 
valued at |40,000, which is devoted entirely to psychological 



32 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

investigations. Harvard has the one largest and best equipped, 
with Clark University a close second. Yale has just begun its 
work in this line and Columbia is among the very best in this as 
she is in other fields of investigation. Cornell has a largeendow- 
ment for this especial purpose and a magnificent equipment of 
apparatus. The University of Indiana, has excellent facilities 
and offers good courses in this line. Likewise Wisconsin and 
Chicago Universities. The movement has gained a good foothold 
in the State University of Iowa and also that of Nebraska. 
Brown University has a model laboratory, and Stanford Univer- 
sity with its unlimited resources has an equipment very hard to 
excel. The Catholic University at Washington has shown an 
admirable spirit of progression in providing so liberally for such 
a laboratory. The University of Illinois, located at Champaign, 
has also a special laboratory for psychological investigations, 
which is devoted particularly to the study of those departments 
of child study that will furnish results of the greatest value to 
the common school-teacher. These things are mentioned merely 
to show that the exact methods of the laboratory as applied to 
Psychology have gained a strong foothold in the institutions of 
our great American commonwealth. We hope it may prove a 
mustard seed of inextinguishable vitality. 

But what are some of the problems that this department of 
Psychology has to solve? These problems can, I think, be best 
indicated by an allusion to the different groups of apparatus 
employed : 

I. Apparatus used to represent the brain, nerves and organs of 
sense (such as the eye, ear, tactile corpuscles and taste bulbs), 
illustrating the intimate connection between mind and body, as 
well as the physical basis of the psychical activities. 

II. Apparatus used to investigate the Psychology of the senses. 
This is the largest group, but the apparatus is comparatively in- 
expensive. Color mixers of various types, prisms, apparatus for 
after images and color blindness (used in testing accuracy of 
color perception), as well as a dark room, are needed for experi- 
menting upon the visual sense. Also a full equipment for experi- 



THE METHODS OF PSYCHO LOGT. 38 

ments upon the senses of hearing, temperature, touch, taste, 
smell, rotation, effort, etc., is essential. 

III. An expensive but absolutely indispensable collection of in- 
struments used in the time measurement of mental processes, 
from the very simplest psychical acts to the more complicated 
forms of comparison and association. These useful instruments 
serve a function to the psychologist similar to that supplied to 
the anatomist by the micrometer eye-piece. He measures the 
thousandth part of a millimeter — the psychologist with his 
chronoscope measures the ten thousandth part of a second. 

IV. A complicated group of apparatus for the investigation of 
the higher mental processes, such as attention, memory, percej)- 
tion of time, position and distance. 

V. There must also be a set of devices for the purpose of in- 
vestigating the nature and content of the child's mind at the 
various stages of its development. This gives an indication of 
the immense service experimental Psychology can render to 
pedagogy. Experimental Psychology has justified itself in offer- 
ing a sure and exact method of investigation into the child's 
mind with a view to ascertaining the best path of development 
rather than longer traveling along the hard-beaten roads of 
traditional educational customs. If the teacher will but make 
use of the facts and conclusions of the never-failing "new" Psy- 
chology, he will be enabled to give the world, for each pupil sent 
to his school, a rounded out, well developed citizen — one in whom 
"the length, breadth and height thereof are equal." 

I have but meagerly indicated the methods and functions of 
the various objective forms which Psychology must take in 
order to successfully deal with the facts of mental life.* 

It will be seen that the old introspective method when used 
alone is unsatisfactory, because it leads Psychology to become 
more and more speculative, impractical and visionary. As sim- 
ple observation cannot suffice for the science of physics, it can- 
not possibly suffice for the science of Psychology. Observations 



*For an excellent aud most valuable detailed statement, see A Laboratory 
Course in Psychology, by Prof. E. C. Sanford. 
L. P.— 3 



34 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

in Psychology, as in other sciences, must lie confirmed nml modi- 
fled by experiment. Psychology must be treated as a natural 
science. The old sjjeculative Psychology has been abandoned by 
those whose methods of thought are scientific, and empirical 
Psychology has taken its place. And this is the correct thing, for 
Psychology is really a science of fact and its questions are ques- 
tions of fact, and the psychologist must treat theories and hypo- 
theses as rigorously and with the same impartial criticism as is 
demanded in other departments of research. The old Psychology 
in its speculative form was incomplete and failed because it ig- 
nored the body. The new Psychology cannot afford to ignore 
the subject of mental states. But Psychology which is purely 
introspective in its nature must ever be sterile; and no wonder is 
it that, in some quarters, Psychology has borne the reputation 
of being the driest and least interesting of all the sciences. Fur- 
thermore, it is certainly true that exclusive attention to the 
contents of our own individual minds can never give us a general 
knowledge of mind. In order to relieve our methods of these 
defects we must at every stage of inquiry compare our own 
thoughts, ideas and feelings with those of other minds, even if it 
should result in the removal of some of those "ancient land- 
marks which our fathers have set." The true Psychology will 
ignore neither the facts gained by introspection nor those sup- 
plied by the objective method, but gathers from every possible 
source the established facts of mind. When you study physical 
science you observe physical phenomena and work up by careful 
methods of procedure to physical laws; so in your study of the 
science of mind you must begin with the simplest mental facts 
and work up to the general laws of mind. Psychology then is 
under obligation to study every sort of mental activity by the 
inductive process, and then submit these discovered facts of the 
conscious life to rigorous and systematic treatment. As the out- 
come of this painstaking research we will be able to see clearly 
that the mind isareal unit being, non-matei-ial in its nature, un- 
folding and developing according to certain laws of its own. 



LESSON IV. 

THE CONNECTION BETWEEN BODY AND MIND. 

From the very earliest times it has been recognized that an 
intimate interrelation obtains between mind and body. Alcohol 
in some of its forms, tobacco, coffee, opium, and many other 
drugs have been used for ages for their supposed mental effects. 
These vague notions have been borne out by numberless scien- 
tific investigations of the past few years. These scientific obser- 
vations are rendering more precise and extending the application 
of what has always been known in the commonest experiences of 
man. It is an indisputable fact that mind and body are closely 
related, and that each modifies the activities of the other. It is 
a dictum of psychological science that mental facts can never be 
properly studied apart from the bodily conditions and physical 
environment amid which they take place. On the other hand, 
all mental states are followed by bodily activity of some sort. 
Thus, you see, the relation between mind and body is a recipro- 
cal one — mind affects body and body inffuences wind. I do not 
wish you to take this statement " on faith " at all; on the other 
hand, I very much prefer that you draw your own inferences after 
a survey of the following facts. 

You well know that if the amount of the blood supply is in 
any way interfered with, modifications of the mental processes 
are certain to take place. Notice, for example, the sudden rush- 
ing of blood to the head. In such a condition total unconscious- 
ness frequently results. And then strong coffee will keep some 
people awake because its stimulating qualities cause the blood 
to circulate more freely over the brain, and increased mental 
activity results, which is too intense to be inhibited in order that 
sleep msiy ensue. Of the greatest importance, then, is the quality 
of the blood supply. The quality of the blood may be impure 

(35) 



36 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

from some error in the processes of digestion, assimilation or 
excretion. To take the common instance of dyspepsia or even 
ordinary indigestion, we find that such disorders are invariably 
followed by melancholia or at least by a bad temper. The pres- 
ence of bile in the blood even in healthy, strong individuals gives 
rise to gloomy forebodings and a feeling of "blueness." The 
presence of uric acid in the blood of a gouty patient causes an 
irritability of temper which at times is so severe as to make 
him for the time being a maniac. Knowing, as we do, the effect 
of certain drugs, such as chloroform producing anesthesia, 
nitrous oxide gas producing laughter and alcohol causing hilar- 
ity and excitement, we are forced to admit that the mental pro- 
cesses are affected by changes in the quality of the blood from 
which the brain receives its nutrition. And then, consider the 
delirium of fevers. The poisons present in the blood in febrile 
diseases gives rise to confusion of the mental states. The deli- 
rium which is present in typhoid fever is different from the de- 
lirium which is manifested in rheumatic fever. The insanity 
which results from influenza, or "/a grippe," is very different 
from other post-febrile insanities. The child, and, for that mat- 
ter, you yourself can think better if the head is rested upon the 
hand or the forehead rubbed with the fingers. The posture of 
the body plays an exceedingly important function in its relation 
to the mental processes. You cannot imagine an angry man 
with his arms hanging loosely at his side, with his fingers spread 
apart, and his muscles relaxed. No, indeed; the angry man 
stiffens every muscle, clenches his fist and seta his teeth firmly. A 
person can never conduct an argument when languidly sitting in 
a chair; he must lean forward or stand up and throw his arms 
about, or indulge in other gestures equally emphatic. 

And in this same connection, I am reminded to speak of the 
effect of tobacco upon the mental processes. Of course these dis- 
turbances are much more pronounced in the case of the young 
growing person than in that of the confirmed smoker. It is not 
within ray province to speak of the physiological disturbances 
due to the two poisons, nicotine and pyridine, which tobacco 



CONNECTION BETWEEN BODY AND MIND. 37 

always contains. I shall not speak of the especial diseases of 
smokers, nor of the particular disorders which afflict the laborers 
in tobacco manufactories. I only desire, in passing, to refer to 
the mental disorders which result from the use of tobacco, es- 
pecially on the part of the young, such as hallucinations of 
vision, anxiety, loss of memory and general mental depression. 
You will find an interesting commentary on this point by refer- 
ring to the investigations made a couple of years ago upon the 
students of Yale College, where it was found to be true beyond a 
possibility of contradiction that " tobacco inhibits the physical 
growth, and causes a loss of mental power in those addicted to 
its use." The vigorous action that college students themselves 
have taken in this matter is more potent for good results than 
anything that any " old fogy" outsider could say or do. I refer 
to the well-known fact that no body of college students will give 
a place on any of the athletic teams, be it the foot-ball eleven, 
the base ball nine, the boat crew, or in track athletics, to a man 
who uses tobacco in any form. And as any observer of college 
sports will tell you, this is not because it injures muscle alone. 
Men whose only recommendation is their muscle are not the 
ones who gain a place on the athletic teams, for it is very evi- 
dent that the "heady" player is the one most in demand, and 
college games are won by "gray matter" rather than beefy 
tissue; by means of brain rather than brawn. 

Attention ought also be called to the connection of the bodily 
condition with the phenomena of memory. Ribot and others 
have shown that in a general way reproduction of impressions 
seems to depend upon the circulation of the blood, especially in 
the brain. Related to this is the familiar fact that bodily injury 
will disturb the memory, as the case reported by Dr. Winslow so 
well illustrates : "A clergyman of rare talent and energy, of sound 
education, was thrown from his carriage and received a violent 
concussion of the brain. For several days he remained utterly un- 
conscious, and when restored his intellect was observed to be in a 
state similar to that of a naturally intelligent child. Although 
in middle life, he re-commenced his English and classical studies 



38 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

under tutors, and was progressing satisfactorily, when, after 
several months successful study, his memory gradually' returned, 
and his mind resumed all its wonted vigor and its former wealth 
and polish of culture." 

Actual experiments with reference to the influence of drugs, 
stimulants and narcotics upon the psychical processes have been 
undertaken, and with some interesting facts well established as a 
result. During the fall of 1891, I was located at Freiburg, Ger- 
many, where Professor Miinsterberg's excellent laboratory was 
then in operation. While there I took part in some interesting 
experiments in this very line. The description of these experi- 
ments with their results has recently been published in Germany ; 
but I shall give you in brief outline an account of the methods 
employed and the facts gained as conclusions. As stated above, 
these experiments were for the purpose of determining the influ- 
ence of certain materials upon the psychical processes. Three 
groups of substances were used. In the first group tea, coffee 
and alcohol in various forms (Ijeer, Rhine wine, Bordeaux red 
wine and brandy) are included ; while the second embraces opium 
and sodium bromide; and the third quinine, anti-pyrine and 
phenacetine. Medium doses only were given so that no possible 
danger could ensue. The various psychical processes upon which 
the effects of these different substances were tried, were four in num- 
ber (1) the memory of certain figures, letters and sounds (similar 
to the test I outline in my chapter on memory) ; (2) the simple 
addition of numbers; (3) the naming of colors; (4) the count- 
ing of letters on a printed page. The effect of the different nerv- 
ines was tested at regular intervals for two hours after partak- 
ing of them. I will first take up the simplest of the experiments, 
viz., the counting of letters on a printed page. The problem was 
merely to count the greatest number possible in a given time- 
two minutes. I shall designate the four persons taking part in 
the experiment as A, B, C, and D. The experiments were tried 
at three different intervals (one-quarter of an hour, one hour, 
and two hours) after partaking of the alcohol, drugs, etc. The 
results are shown more clearly in the following tables; the sign+, 



CONNECTION BETWEEN BODY AND MIND. 



39 



before a number means that so many letters more, and the sign 
— , that so many letters less could be counted under the different 
influences, in two minutes, than in the normal condition — i. p., 
without having partaken of the various nervines. 

Table showing number of printed letters, more or less, that 
could be counted in two minutes after partaking of liquors in- 
dicated : 



Person. 


Agent. 


yi hour after 
partaking. 


1 hour after 
partaking. 


2 hours after 
partaking. 


. A 

Normal record 
406 letters. 

B 

Normal record 
390 letters. 

O 

Normal record 
472 letters. 


[Beer 

J Brandy 

' Rhine wine .. . 
iBordeaux 

[Beer. 

1 Brandy 

Rhine wine .. . 

.Bordeaux 

fBeer 

) Brandy 

1 Rhine wine .. . 
iBordeaux 

['Beer 


—74 
—67 
—40 

— 8 

—60 

+ 5 

— 8 
+ 2 

—45 
—21 
-70 

— 4 

— 22 
—56 
—24 
2 


-23 

—47 
—12 
+20 

.— 2 
+ 36 
+20 

+26 

—30 

—11 

—23 



+20 
+12 
+ 2 
- 7 


+36 
—20 

+14 
+52 

+51 
+53 
+36 

.+26 

+ 3 
—11 

—27 

+24 

+48 
+26 
+14 
•4-15 


D 

Normal record 
454 letters. 


) Brandy 

1 Rhine wine .. 
iBordeaux .... 



The effect of tea in this experiment (counting printed letters) 
is quite remarkable. These are, of course, to be compared with 
the normal records given in the preceding table: 



Persons. 


% hour after. 


1 hour after. 


2 hours after. 


A 


+ 4 


+27 
—71 




h 32 


B 


—16 


- 


-100 


O 





—22 

+20 


- 


- 48 


D 


+12 


- 


V 15 



40 



PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 



Coffee has a similar effect in assisting this simple mental pro- 
cess, but the accelerating: influence is not nearly so pronounced 
as in the case of tea. 

The effect of drugs is clearly shown in the following table. As 
in the other tables 4- or — signs indicate the number of letters 
more or less than the normal record that the person could count 
in two minutes after having partaken of the drugs : 



Person. 


Drugs. 


f4 hour after 
partaking. 


1 hour after 
partaking. 


2 hours after 
partaking. 


A 

Normal record 
406 letters. 


( Antipyrine. . . 

< Quinine 

( Phenacetine . 


-20 
-36 

+40 


—17 
-27 

+52 


—32 

+21 
+60 


B 

Normal record 
390 letters. 


( Antipyrine. . . 

< Quinine 

( Phenacetine . 


-16 
—12 
— 5 


—29 

+15 
—20 


—24 

+35 

+27 


O 

Normal record 
472 letters. 


( Antipyrine. . . 

■] Quinine 

( Phenacetine . 


—38 
—40 

4-6 


—45 
—30 

+ « 


—35 
— 2 
+14 


D 

Normal record 
454 letters. 


i Antipyrine. . . 

•j Quinine 

( Phenacetine . 


—80 
—25 

+ 7 


-72 


+ 3 


—56 

+ 8 

+12 



You can readily see that the most harmful of the three is anti- 
pyrine, and that phanacetine is by long odds the most beneficial. 
The depression of the psychical processes after taking antipyrine 
was so constant that one is tempted to give warning against 
the use of such a remedy (?) whose disturbing effects are so far- 
reaching and thoroughgoing. Similar effects follow upon par- 
taking of even small doses of opium and sodium bromide. 

I shall refer to only one other set of experiments that go to 
show the influence of these nervines upon the mental processes. 
This is in simple addition where there was a single column of ten 
figures (1 and being left out) to be added, and the time occu- 
pied was measured in hundredths of a second. The following 
table will, I am sure, explain itself: 



CONNECTION BETWEEN BODY AND MIND. 



41 



Person. 



A 

Normal record 
6.02 sec. 



Normal record 
7 . 56 sec. 



Agent. 



'Beer 

Cognac ... 

White wine 
kRed wine . . 

'Beer 

Cognac .... 

White wine 
^Red wine . . 



-J TBeer 

Normal record C?S-i„, 
iRed wine . . 



5.26 sec. 



D fBeer 

TVT 1 J J Cognac .... 

^°T79r. iWhite wine 

6.72 sec. Uedwine .. 



Number 


Number 


of TO!! seconds 


of yJs seconds 


longer or shortei 


longer or shorter 


14 hour after. 


i hour after. 


—0 30 


—0.53 


—1.49 


—1.87 


-0.10 


—0.14 


—0.12 


—0.68 


+0.92 


^ 


hi. 10 


+0.42 


- 


-2.34 


—0 62 


—0.87 


+0.73 


- 


hO.48 


—0.21 


-0.66 


—0.09 


+0 25 


—0.15 


—0.83 


—0.19 


—0.29 


+0.91 




1-0.42 


—0.15 
—0.53 




-1.02 




-0.42 


+0.81 


• _ 


hO.65 



You will readily see that almost without exception A and C 
could add the single column of ten figures more quickly, while B 
and D had to take a longer time for the same work, after partak- 
ing of these alcoholic beverages. Both tea and coffee were found 
to be great aids to mental quickness in performing this simple 
arithmetical process. I have given you so many of these tabu- 
lated results because I am anxious that you see for yourself that 
the mental processes are always modified by the use of the com- 
mon nervines — either helped or hindered, either accelerated or 
retarded. If these exceedingly simple mental activities are so 
perceptibly affected by these various agents, what great changes 
can be wrought by them in the more complex mental activities of 
comparison, association, reflection and reasoning. 

But you will perhaps say " I readily concede that the bodily 
condition may affect the mind, but you have as yet given no evi- 
dence that the mind in any waj^ influences and modifies the bod- 
ily conditions." Well, then, let us observe the following. I told 



42 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

you in one place that indigestion and dyspepsia will cause irrita- 
bility of temper and melancholia. It is just as true that melan- 
cholia will cause loss of appetite and indigestion. The person 
who is deeply grieving cannot eat, try he ever so hard. Notice 
also the outburst of tears or the "lump in the throat" caused 
by intense grief or sorrow. Mental excitement or anxiety affect 
the heart beats and the circulation of the blood. A violent emo- 
tion inhibits the circulation and so causes fainting. Great dread 
may prevent the secretion of saliva, a circumstance which lay at 
the basis of the old-time "ordeal of God" in which the accused 
person would be held guilty if he could hold rice in his mouth 
without wetting it. Fear will make one's hair stand on end. I 
know of no better statement of the bodily changes induced by fear 
than that of Darwin, which I quote at considerable length, because 
it so well illustrates the general points under discussion. "In 
fear, the eyes and mouth are widely opened and the eyebrows 
raised. The frightened man at first stands like a statue, motion- 
less and breathless, or crouches down as if instinctively to escape 
observation. The heart beats quickly and violently ao that it 
palpitates or knocks against the ribs; but it is very doubtful if it 
then acts more efficiently than usual, so as to send a greater supply 
of blood to all parts of the body, for the skin instantly becomes 
pale as during incipient faintness. That the skin is much affected 
under the sense of great fear is shown in the marvelous manner 
in which perspiration exudes from it. This exudation is all the 
more remarkable as the surface is then cold, and hence the term 
' a cold sweat." The hairs on the skin also stand erect and the 
superficial muscles shiver. In connection with the disturbed ac- 
tion of the heart the breathing is hurried. The salivary glands 
act imperfectly, the mouth becomes dry and is often opened and 
shut. I have also noticed that under slight fear there is a strong- 
tendency to yawn. One of the best marked symptoms is the 
trembling of all the muscles of the body, and this is often first 
seen in the lips. From this cause and from the dryness of the 
mouth, the voice becomes husky and indistinct and may alto- 
gether fail. As fear increases into an agony of terror, we behold, 



^.: 



CONNECTION BETWEEN BODY AND MIND. 43 

as under all violent emotions, diversified results. The heart 
beats wildly, or fails to act and faintness ensues; there is a 
death-like pallor, the breathing is labored, the wings of the nos- 
trils are widely dilated, there is a gasping and convulsive motion 
of the lips, a tremor on the hollow cheek, a gulping and catching 
of the throat, the uncovered and protruding eyeballs are fixed 
on the object of terror, or they may roll restlessly from side to 
side. The pupils are said to be enormously dilated. All the mus- 
cles of the body may become rigid or may be thrown into con- 
vulsive movements. The hands are alternately clenched and 
opened, often with a twitching movement. The arms may be 
protruded as if to avert some dreadful danger, or may be thrown 
wildly over the head. In other cases there is a sudden and un- 
controllable tendency to headlong flight ; and so strong is this 
that the boldest soldiers may be seized with a sudden panic." 
"Trembling with fear," an "aching heart," " shuddering with 
terror," are not mere figurative expressions by any means. Men- 
tal fatigue will induce bodily fatigue. A few weeks ago I made 
some experiments that demonstrate this very clearly. The ex- 
periments were performed upon fifty grammar school children 
who were about to take an examination in general history. 
Before they took the examination I had each one endeavor to 
lift with the dynamometer all he could with his right hand 
(all the pupils were right-handed). I then put down the 
records for each pupil. After their examination (which lasted 
2-| hours) with its severe mental strain, I had them do the same 
thing again, that is — lift their best. They were all, with two 
exceptions, unable to lift as much as they had before entering 
upon the intense mental activity- of the examination. 

Then, too prolonged mental exercise draws off the blood from 
the rest of the body in too large quantities, in order to supply 
the demands of the wearied brain. Thus a nervous, excited, 
brain-weary person always suffers from cold feet and fingers. 
After these persons fall asleep, when the demands for blood on 
the part of the brain are not so great, the mind being less active, 
the extremities again become warm. Mental activity always 



44 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

causes a rise of temperature in the brain. Over eighty localities 
on the brain have been examined with regard to the effect of in- 
tellectual work on its temperature, and every space thus exam- 
ined has shown that an actual rise of temperature followed each 
mental exertion. In right-handed persons the rise of temperature 
is greater on the left side of the brain, and in left-handed persons 
the rise of temperature is greater on the right side of the brain. 
This is because of the fact that right-handed persons are all left 
brained and all left-handed persons are right-brained —due to the 
fact that the fibers cross at the base of the brain, as I shall make 
clear to you in the lesson on "The Brain and its Functions." 
Not long ago I myself undertook some interesting experiments 
with reference to the effect of mental activity upon the tempera- 
ture of the brain. The experiments were made upon living dogs. 
I inserted thermometric needles into the substance of theirbrains. 
After a few hours of rest and sleep I tested the animals by means of 
exciting the various senses. For example, I held a piece of meat 
to the dog's nose, and, as soon as he smelled of it, the ther- 
mometric needle indicated a rise of temperature amounting to a 
little less than one degree. When I called to it playfull3^, there 
were similar results in the way of rise in temperature. This shows 
that the activity induced by stimulating the different senses ac- 
tually heated the brain mass itself. Mosso's observations on 
three persons whose brains had been laid bare by injury to the 
skull gives us the best direct evidence of the fact that mental 
activity, either intellectual or emotional, causes a sudden rush of 
blood to the brain, increasing the heat thereof. I should like to 
have you notice the tracing herewith appended, that was made 
with Mosso's Sphygmograph. By means of this little instrument 
the pulse beats are recorded in the form of tracings on smoked 
paper. 

The tracing, A (see opposite page), was made by the pulse dur- 
ing intellectual activity, while B was made by the pulse during 
mental repose. Each sort of mental activity produces its own 
particular pulse tracing. You get a different tracing when the 
mind is occupied in adding numbers from what you get when 



CONNECTION BETWEEN BODY AND MIND. 45 

the mind is engaged in interpreting the diflBcult passages of a 
scientific work. 

This intimate causal relation between body and mind shows 
itself again with reference to the special question as to the con- 
nection between mental effort and one's diet. While you cannot 
measure the activities of thought in terms of beef and bread, you 
are more than warranted in maintaining that a strong rich 
mind cannot be the tenant of a poorly-fed body. I know that 
there are some isolated chapters in history which abound in sen- 
timental gush concerning this or that eminent writer and thinker 
who lived in an attic, subsisting on little besides cold potatoes. 
If such statements are ever authenticated, they will certainly 
prove very rare exceptions ; and even if it be true that these men 




could do a considerable amount of mental work on a diet of cold 
potatoes and white beans, we are still led to inquire as to 
whether or no these particular men could not have done a great 
deal more work and lived longer had they varied their rations 
occasionally, or even semi-occasionally, with porter-house steak. 
It is a dictum of mental as well as physical hygiene that it is far 
better to stint one's self along any other line rather than deprive 
ourselves of food of needed quality and quantity. I say stint, 
for it is not economy. Poor food means poor blood and not 
enough of it, and this in turn means a brain starving for oxygen. 
Such a brain is always a weary brain, slow to respond and 
erratic in its activities; and this fatigued, poisoned brain can 
never sustain mental processes of high character or strict 
integrity. Therefore, I say, that in treating of the reciprocal 



46 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

influence that obtains between body and mind, the question of 
diet is one of special importance to those having the care of 
children, and should be discussed at great length by educators in 
order that it may receive in every quarter the attention it so 
richly deserves. A locomotive, capable of drawing a train of 
1,000 tons one mile in three minutes cannot make the same time 
with a heavier load. It is manifestly impossible. So in the case 
of the child, a given task requires a certain amount of brain en- 
ergy, and without sufficient physical nourishment to sustain the 
brain, the task must be more or less incomplete. Almost univer- 
sally wrong impressions prevail as to the proper nourishment of 
children. As a rule they are underfed. Too little variety is given 
them, while the food lacks the nourishing qualities which the 
child's system demands. It would seem to most mothers an 
absurd rule to lay down for their guidance that children should 
be given whatever their appetite demands. Yet, if the natural 
cravings of a child's appetite have always been satisfied, the most 
judicious mother need not fear yielding to its request. Let us go 
slightly outside of our province and look a little more carefully 
into the physiological side of the question in the way Herbert 
Spencer so excellently presents it, and I think we may answer some 
of the objections which my statement may have aroused. What 
does a child ask for most frequently ? Sweets, you say, candy or 
sugar ; fruits, possibly unripe preferred, meats, etc. Any physi- 
ology will tell you that sugar is a necessary element to the vital 
processes, and that many other compounds are conA^erted within 
the body into that very sugar which the system demands as a 
heat making power. Almost as universally, children dislike fatty 
food, which is another heat maker; so an extra amount of saccha- 
rine matter is called for in order to produce the required heat. 
The craving for fruit is a normal one, and the acids of fruit form a 
natural and healthful tonic when taken in moderation. It is the 
fact that these kinds of food are denied them, and that this crav- 
ing is so long repressed, that leads to the immoderate indul- 
gence of the appetite when the usual restraints are removed . Then 
the question of giving children the full allowance of meat is a dis- 



CONNECTION BETWEEN BODY AND MIND. 47 

puted one. In many cases economy suggests that "very much 
meat is not good for little boys and girls," and this statement 
has largely come to be regarded as a gastronoraical fact. Relia- 
ble statistics have alreadj'' proven conclusively that the child 
brought up on a bread and potato diet lacks that physical 
strength and activity, even though the weight and size be equal, 
which the meat-fed child possesses. This does not apply to the 
very young child, but to those beyond the age of three who 
manifest considerable vigor. Even more than adults in propor- 
tion to their size they need strengthening food , so that not only 
the daily waste may be supplied, but the extra nourishment 
demanded for growth may also be furnished in abundance, if full 
and healthy development is to be attained. 

Another usually faulty point in children's diet is its monotony 
— too little variety, essential to secure the needed elements, is 
given. The child's weariness of a cereal food for breakfast, or a 
bread-and-milk supper, suggests that a different variety of food 
is demanded in order to meet the needs of the system, and the 
distaste for the customary articles of food is not a meaningless 
"freak of appetite.!' The required amount of brain energy can 
of course be supplied by a greater quantity of less nourishing 
food, but economy of the forces of the stomach would require 
that the food supply be a less quantity of the most nourish- 
ing substances, rather than a greater quantity of those contain- 
ing less nutriment. 

As good digestion is an aid to cheerfulness, so cheerfulness 
always induces good digestion. How important is it, then, that 
the child under your care be kept in a happy frame of mind. 
"Laugh and grow fat" is not a meaningless jumble of words, 
and this common go-to-mill expression may seem crude, but it 
really indicates something that should be a tenet of ps3'cholog- 
ical doctrine, incorporated as a part of the "creed" of every 
individual. Besides, the habits of mind surely mold the bodily 
form just as single thoughts cause the facial expression to 
change temporarily. The animal expression, the beefy neck, the 
bleared eyes, and other characteristics of the dissipated, are not 



48 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

alone physical effects of the iudulgence in alcohol or the gratifi- 
cation of the lower appetites. No, indeed ; the habits of thinking 
continually upon these fleshly indulgences and vices plays a very 
prominent part in thus permanently modifying the contour of 
the head and face. 

I need not go further into this question of the reciprocal action 
of mind and body. I simply submit to you such facts as those 
above given. They are only a few of the large number that 
might be adduced, and I am sure that each one of you could sup- 
plement these that I have given with many, even more interesting, 
from your large fund of observation and experience. 



LESSON y. 

THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. 

An inanimate thing never responds to external impressions. 
If you handle a piece of iron, a slab of marble or a lump of coal 
there is no movement by way of answer to your touch. These 
and all other inanimate objects are utterly incapable of respond- 
ing in any active or visible manner, either to natural changes in 
the environment or to modifications brought about by the hand 
of man. However, in the world of animate things, even among 
the very lowest forms, we observe a marked difference. We know 
that all life is growth and all growth is movement of some sort. 
A thing which does not grow you say no longer lives; it is dead. 
You know that to live a thing must grow — and all species of 
growth are merely forms of movement. So the tree differs from 
the piece of iron, the slab of marble or lump of coal, in that it 
responds to its environment. When the warmth and moisture 
of spring follow the wintry snows, the tree puts forth its leaves, 
covers itself with the bloom of flowers, yields us fruit, and so on. 
The pond-lily, the "four oclock," or M. Jalapa, will open and 
shut at regular hours of the day. The " sensitive plant " will curl 
and withdraw its leaves at the slightest touch. 

It is, however, admitted by all that many of the lowest forms 
of life cannot be assigned to either the vegetable or animal king- 
doms with any degree of assurance. Take, for instance, the Vol- 
vox Globator; the botanist regards it as a plant, while the 
zoologist assigns it to the animal kingdom. Somewhat similar 
are the Gregarini, which are found in the intestinal tracts of ani- 
mals. But there is no difficulty in finding a line of demarkation 
between the higher animals and other forms of existence. If, in 
hurrying through the crowded and busy streets of a great city, a 
man jostles against a barber pole, or lamp post, or collides with 

L. P.-4 (49) 



50 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

a tree or the wooden Indian sign in front of a cigar store, we find 
that none of these objects are in the least disturbed by the occur- 
rence. They stand as firmly, securely and stolidly as ever. 
There is no response of any sort on their part. On the other 
hand, the man responds with a sudden start, and, unlike the 
wooden Indian sign, his face completely changes its expression, 
while his devotions, which are accompanied by various exclama- 
tory outbursts, are feelingly directed toward the contused parts 
of his body. He feels. The barber pole, lamp post, tree and 
Indian sign do not feel. Or, to express the same thing in equiva- 
lent terms— the man has a nervous system ; the other things have 
no nervous system. 

You already realize the fact that the body and mind are 
closely connected, and that Psychology must always take this 
connection into account. This and many other facts make at 
least a general knowledge of the nervous system absolutely 
essential to the student of Psychology. The nerve elements are 
capable of being divided into two classes — (1) nerve fibers and 
(2) nerve cells. In addition to these two a third might be men- 
tioned — an intermediate basis tissue called the neuroglia, which 
exists more abundantly in the larger nerve centers, such as the 
brain and spinal cord. It has been quite generally regarded as 
mere connective tissue, and some authors give to it the name 
"nerve cement." It is highly probable that in all animals the 
new nerve fibers and new nerve cells are evolved from this inter- 
mediate substance. What is generally called a "nerve" (as 
when the dentist speaks of "treating a nerve") appears to the 
naked eye as a cord of a whitish color. If we closely examine 
this nerve we soon discover that it is a bundle made up of many 
smaller strands. Each of these strands is called a nerve fiber, 
which is in turn composed of elementary fibrils. The nerve fibers 
vary in thickness from ygVu ^o TooVinr °^ ^^ inch. The smaller 
ones are found at the termination of the nerves in muscles, 
glands and membranes, as well as near theendings in the skin on 
the outer surface of the body. Here they are extremely fine and 
interlace with one another, forming an intricate network. Some- 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. 51 

times the fibrils fuse more or less completely, so that the fiber 
appears either structureless or merely shows signs of fibrillation. 
The fibers are of two classes, the medullated and non-medullated. 
The medullated are so named because they consist of a central 
nerve axis surrounded and enwrapped by a sheath of very thin 
membrane and a semi-liquid granular substance, called the "me- 
dullary sheath." The medullated nerve fibers are found only in 
vertebrate animals, and are especially abundant in the brain and 
spinal cord. The central portion of the medullated nerve fiber— 
the portion enveloped by the medullary sheath— is its most im- 
portant constituent ; it is almost translucent, and is called the 
" axis cylinder." The chief characteristic of the non-medullated 
fibers is that in them there is no sheath or outer membrane pres- 
ent. In nearly all the visual nerves, as well as the fibers of the 
olfactory and some others, the sheath is absent. As stated 
above, both the medullated and the non-medullated nerve fibers 
tend to group themselves into cords or fascicles of different sizes, 
the individual fibers of which run parallel to one another and are 
invested by a sheath. These again, in their course toward the 
center, collect into^ larger and larger fascicles, the different con- 
stituents of which are all bound together into one white nerve. 
These nerves frequently contain within the same fascicles both in- 
going and outgoing fibers, and are then denominated " mixed " 
nerves. Others contain only those fibers which carry the cur- 
rents in and are called sensory or afferent nerves. And a third 
class is that group of nerves which contains fibers whose function 
is to convey impulses toward the periphery. They are called the 
motor or efferent nerves. 

The nerve cells are very different from each other both in size 
and shape, as well as in their special functions. 

In size they range from -^-^^-^ to ^io °^ ^^ ^^^^ ^^ diameter, and 
in shape they are as varied as the feathery snowflakes of a 
winter's storm. Thus the brain abounds in cells which are pyra- 
midal in shape, while the multipolar ganglion cells are char- 
acteristic of the anterior or motor region of the spinal cord. 
Nerve cells are more or less granulated bodies, each of which 



52 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

contains a large nucleus, and within this is usually a distinct 
<' nucleolus." 

The substance of the nerve cells gives off two or more pro- 
cesses which are either much branched (called ramifying pro- 
cesses) or simple. It is by means of these processes of various 
sorts that the nerve cells are united to the central extremities of 
the nerve and to each other. Very frequently, under the mioro-^ 
scope, fibrillations can be seen passing from one nerve process in 
a curved line through the body of the cell and into another pro- 
cess; while in others the same process can be traced through the 
cell in various directions. Thus it is arranged so that many 




Figure 1.~A multipolar nerve-cell, with branching (1,2,3,4,5) nerve processes. 
a, nucleus, containing nucleolus. 

nerve currents can pass through one of these compound nerve 
fibers just as, by use of the Edison key, one telegraphic message 
can be received and another can be sent over the same wire and 
at the same time. 

The exact manner in which nerve fibers and nerve cells are con- 
nected is not known as yet. The views of Retzius on that point 
are certainly the best.* At any rate it is very evident that cells 
and fibers have no functional existence apart from each other. 
Whenever and wherever we have nerve fibers we have nerve cells, 
and vice versa. Viewed in their entirety with reference to their 
functions and interdependence, indirect as it may seem to be, it is 

*Zur Kentniss d. Nerven systems d. Crustaceen, Gustav Retzius, Leipzig, 1890, 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. 



53 




evident that nerve fibers and nerve cells together constitute a 
system — the nervous system. The nervous system of man and 
thehigher animals consists, then, of the following necessary parts : 
(1) Conducting Nerves, comprising (a) afferent sensory nerves 
carrying the currents in, (b) efferent motor nerves carrying the 
currents out, (c) mixed nerves; (2) Central organs, such as the 
spinal cord and brain; (3) the end organs (a) of sense, as the 
skin, the eye, the ear and taste bulbs, (b) of motion, such as 
the attachments which connect the nerves and muscles. 

The spinal cord and brain are the great cen- 
ters of the cerebro-spinal system. These great 
masses of nervous matter are situated in the 
bony cavity of the skull and spinal column. 
Both the brain and spinal cord are invested 
with three coverings or membranes. The outer 
one is called the Jura mater, and is tough, white 
and fibrous. It adheres very closely to the 
bones, especially in the skull. The second is 
called the arachnoid membrane, and is smooth, 
firm, and is kept very moist by means of an al- 
kaline fluid. The inner membrane is vascular, 
and is called the pia. Its network of fine arte- 
ries and veins are thus in contact with the nerv- 
ous tissue itself. The function of these three 
membranes is to protect, hold together and nour- 
ish with blood the spinal cord and the brain. 

The spinal cord is along tube of nervous mat- 
ter, and extends throughout the entire length of the spinal canal. 
It is, therefore, from fifteen to eighteen inches long in the adult 
person. It is nearly cylindrical in shape, its front and back sur- 
faces being somewhat flattened. The spinal cord is almost com- 
pletely divided throughout its entire length into right-and-left 
halves, by two median fissures. The one in front (anterior) is 
the broader, the one behind (posterior) is narrower but deeper. 
The two halves of the cord are held together by two bands called 
commissures, which are situated at the base of each fissure; the 



F/G.2 

Showing section of 
the spinal cord. 

n. Anterior fissure. 
h. Posterior fissure, 
c. Central canal. 



54 



PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 



one in front is the "white commissure," the posterior one is the 
"gray commissure." The fibers of this posterior gray commis- 
sure inclose a minute canal which extends the entire length of the 
cord (central canal). 

Each half of the spinal cord is subdivided by its nerve roots 
into three columns. These are (1) the anterior column which lies 
between the antero-median fissure and anterior roots; (2) the 
posterior column, which is between the posterior nerve roots and 





Anuridr 

ROOT 




Motor 
TR/icr5>! 



Sensory TRPicrs 




Figure 3.— Section of spinal cord, showing an- 
terior (motor) and posterior (sensory) roots 
(after Edinger). 



Figure 4. — Transverse sec- 
tions (schematic) of the 
spinal cord at different 
elevations. 



the postero-median fissure; (3) the lateral column lying between 
the anterior and posterior nerve roots. This subdivision of each 
half of the cord into three columns, as well as the general ar- 
rangement, is plainly shown in transverse sections at almost any 
elevation. The cord comprises both white and gray matter, the 
white being on the outside. The relative amount of white and 
gray matter varies at different localities of the cord. The gray 
matter, which is surrounded by the white, takes in each half of the 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. 



55 



cord, the shape of a crescent. The horns of this crescent termi- 
nate at the nerve roots just where the fibers emerge from the 
cord. The anterior horn is rounded; the posterior is long and 
narrow. When, looked at in a transverse section it is seen that 
the gray columns and their commissures form a figure something 
like the letter H. This can be plainly seen with the naked eye. 

The cord contains both nerve fibers and nerve cells. The ex- 
ternal, or white part of the cord, consists chiefly of fibers, to- 



POSTERIOR PART 




Figure 5.— Cross-section of spinal cord (after Edinger). a. b, c, d, sensory fibers 
entering the posterior horns ; v, w, x, y, z, motor nerves passing out from the 
anterior horns. The globular (sensory) cells and pyramidal (motor) cells are 
also shown. 

gether with connective tissue and blood vessels derived from the 
pia. The gray portion of the cord contains, besides fibers, con- 
nective tissue and blood vessels, an infinite number of nerve 
cells. Almost all the nerve cells are multipolar, and they abound 
chiefly in the anterior and posterior horns of each crescent. The 
cells of the anterior horn are large, very distinct and stellate, 
forming a very well-defined group; those of the posterior horn 
are smaller in size. 

The number of nerve elements in the spinal cord has been care- 
fully counted in the case of some of the lower animals. For ex- 



56 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

ample, Birge counted the fibers in the cord of a large number of 
frogs and found that in the anterior roots they varied from 6,000 
to 12,000, according to the size and age of the animal. Of the 
longitudinal fibers it can be said that some ascend from below 
upward, conducting sensory impressions to the brain, while 
others descend from the brain and higher regions of the cord to 
the lower, and conduct motor impulse to the muscles. There are 
also countless horizontal and oblique fibers. Thus the nervous ele- 
ments of the spinal cord are arranged so as to be both a con- 
ductor and a center of nervous impressions and impulses. It not 
only conducts the impressions — for example, a touch sensation 
from the finger upwards to the brain and the motor impulses 
from the brain downward to the muscles— but it is also a great 
nerve center. It can do a large amount of work by itself, as well 
as obey the commands of the brain. Many human activities are 
controlled by the spinal cord alone, without the least assistance 
from the brain. The decapitated frog is capable of making a 
considerable series of intelligent movements. The Praying Man- 
tis will continue to fight its antagonist a long time after its head 
is severed. Though the human spinal cord is divided into col- 
umns and ramified by so many tracts running in every conceiv- 
able direction, it must always be remembered that the cord is 
anatomically as well as functionally continuous. 

You see, then, that the spinal cord is a wonderfully ingenious 
mechanism, made up of nervous elements so combined as to 
serve two great purposes. Not only do we find it a pathway to 
and from the brain for those impressions originating at various 
points on the periphery as well as the impulses which take their 
rise in the brain, but it is itself a well-organized nervous center— 
yes, more; it is a well-organized group of numberless nervous 
centers, each one of which may be capable of, and especially fitted 
for, performing a certain piece of work. All these centers in the 
cord are by means of the various nerve fibers bound together 
up and down, crosswise and obliquely, making them capable of 
united action either in originating new impulses and processes, 
or in obeying the behests of the brain. 



LESSON VI. 

THE BRAIN AND ITS FUNCTIONS. 

We now come to a brief description of the brain which includes 
all that mass of nervous matter which is contained within the bony 
cavity of the skull. It comprises four general divisions which are 
so apparent as to be readily distinguishable, even by the casual 
observer. These parts are named (1) medulla oblongata, [2)pons, 
(3) cerebellum or little brain, and (4) cerebrum. 

The medulla is directly above the spinal cord and continuous 
with it. It is somewhat pyramidal in shape and is about one 
and one-fourth inches long. Like the cord, it consists of both 
white and gray matter. The cerebellum lies above and imme- 
diately behind the medulla. The pons, or bridge, lies above and 
in front of the medulla, with which it is also continuous. 

With reference to the medulla it is also important to add that 
it is a bilateral organ with its two halves joined together by 
tough commissural fibers which cross from one side to the other 
in an oblique direction. The fibers of the spinal cord undergo 
an important rearrangement in their passage upward into the 
medulla. Thus you see that each half of the brain is connected 
with the sensory organs at the periphery of the opposite half of the 
body, and also with its muscles. The former relation is brought 
about by the sensory channels decussating at the base of the 
brain and along the spinal cord ; and the latter is due to the fact 
that the outgoing nerve channels or motor stimuli pass from 
each half of the brain to the opposite side of the body, decussat- 
ing with one another in the medulla. This rearrangement con- 
sists in the fibers passing through the left half of the cord and 
coming from the left side of the body, crossing and passing up- 
ward to the right side of the brain, and vice versa. Thus it is 

(57) 



58 



PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 



c 




FiGUBE 6.— Side view of the human brain. (Ecker.)— F, frontal; P, parietal; 0, 
occipital, and T, temoporo-sphenoidal lobes ; S, fissure of Sylvius ; A, anterior, 
and B, posterior, central convolutions; R, fissure of Rolando; M, medulla; 
Cb, cerebellum ; C, cerebrum ; Pn, pons. 



THE BRAIN AND ITS FUNCTIONS. 



59 



that all persons who are right-handed are "left-brained" — i.e., 
the larger amount of brain work is done by the left hemi- 
sphere in right-handed individuals. The same relation holds true 
with reference to the left-handed base-ball pitcher, whether his 
curved balls be "in-shoots," "high-ins," or "out-drops," they 
are controlled by the right cerebral hemisphere. You can then 
readily see what a serious thing it is to correct left-handedness in 
a child. The left-handed child is not only 
left-handed but is right-brained as well. He 
is also left-eyed. I mean by this that his 
left rather than his right eye controls the 
movement of his hand, and after a child has 
been accustomed to use his left hand for the 
first three years of his childhood, it is by no 
means a small matter to induce him to give 
preference to his right when the change in- 
volves almost a complete transformation 
within the brain itself. Certain it is that the 
mental growth is, for the time being, in a 
measure retarded, and it is a question 
whether mental development should ever be 
sacrificed to convenience. It might be add- 
ed that nearly all blind people read with the 
left hand, and with many other individuals 
it is used when fine discriminations are to be 
made, bearing out the idea of Shakespeare, 
when he says : 

The daintier hand hath the finer sense. 




Figure 7. — C, cerebrum; 
M, medulla; m, crossing 
of fibers; s, spinal cord. 



In the cerebellum we find that the general arrangement of the 
white and gray nervous matter is just the opposite of what is 
found in the medulla; for the white is the interior portion, while 
the gray is on the outside. Looked at even superficially, it is 
found that the cerebellum consists of two hemispheres united by 
a median lobe called the vermiform process. The two hemi- 
spheres are joined to each other by means of countless transverse 



60 



PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 



fibers, and the entire cerebellum is connected with the medulla. 
The surface of the cerebellum presents a peculiar arrangement 
due to subdivision of its gray substance into a multitude of thin 
plates or lamellae, by numerous fissures. These thin plates are 
penetrated more or less by fine lines of white matter. When a 




Figure 8— (Convolutions— Fissures). View of the humau brain from above, show- 
ing the two hemispheres as well as principal fissures and eonvolutious. 



vertical section is made through the organ it is found that the 
prolongations of white matter branching off into the interior of 
the several gray lamellae give to the section an arborescent ap- 
pearance, known by the fanciful name of arbor-vitse. The fibers 
that pass in a transverse direction go from one hemisphere of the 
cerebellum to the opposite side, thus constituting the connecting 



THE BRAIN AND ITS FUNCTIONS. 61 

arrangement by means of which the two hemispheres of the cere- 
bellum become anatomically and functionally one. 

The pons is commonly called the " bridge of the brain." It is 
cuboidal in form, and consists of both white and gray matter. 
The white nerve fibers pass through the substance of the pons, 
either transversely or longitudinally. The gray matter of the 
pons is scattered irregularly through its substance, appearing 
also on the posterior but not on the anterior surface. The nerve 
cells of the pons are, as a rule, multipolar and stellate. 

The cerebrum, or great brain, forms much the largest division 
of the nervous mass inclosed within the bony cavity of the skull. 
(See Fig. 6). It is an ovoid in shape, and is divided into two 
great halves, or hemispheres, by means of a great median longitu- 
dinal fissure. At the bottom of this fissure, when the hemispheres 
are spread apart, can be seen a broad white band of nervous 
matter (called the corpus callosum), by means of which the two 
halves of the cerebrum are held firmly together. The surface of 
the two hemispheres is traversed by many fissures of varying 
depth. It might be said that the external surface of the cerebral 
hemispheres appear like a tract of land traversed by many 
crooked brooks and rivers producing numberless furrows, which 
are named sulci or fissures, and the ridges between them are 
called convolutions. Between these various fissures are the 
folds of tissue known as convolutions, or gyri. No two brains 
are alike in the number and depth of the fissures, or in the num- 
ber and prominence of the convolutions; indeed, the two halves 
of the same brain are not exactly alike in this respect. 

By means of the various principal fissures it is an easy matter 
to map out the two hemispheres of the cerebrum into five lobes. 
These are called the Frontal, Parietal, Temporal, Occipital, and 
Island of Reil. All but the Island of Reil are shown in Fig. 6 and 
Fig. 8. It is concealed beneath the frontal, parietal, and tem- 
poral lobes. 

In all parts of the cerebral cortex, the gray matter is found on 
the outside, while the white matter is within. The thickness of 
the gray matter on the brain surface undergoes a gradual increase 



62 



PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 



among vertebrate animals. This gray layer is so thin in fishes 
that the surface of the cerebrum appears almost white to the 
naked eye. 

But the form and distribution of the nerve cells is not the 
same at different layers of the cortex even in the same locality. 
The thickness of this gray cortex varies from one-thirteenth to 
more than one-eighth of an inch, and in it five layers of cells are 
usually d istinguishable. There are about eighteen million of nerve 




Figure 9.— Schematic drawing of coronal sectioa— across both hemispheres of 
the brain, cc, outer gray layer or condex; a, corpus callosum. 



cells to every cubic inch of gray brain matter. A large number of 
these cells are pyramidal in shape, so as to admit of close packing 
together. The human brain is relatively larger than that of any 
other animal, except the smaller birds, such as the canary. It is 
also absolutely larger and heavier than the brain of any known 
animal save the elephant (8 1-2 to 10 lbs.), and the largest 
whales (6 lbs.). Exner has compiled the following table, which 
shows the relation that obtains between the weight of the brain 
and the weight of the body. This table also shows that there is 



THE BRAIN AND ITS FUNCTIONS. 



63 



a sort of general correspondence between the size and weight of 
the brain of any animal and the rank of this animal in the scale 
of intelligence. 



Table Showing Relation of the Weight of the Brain to the 
Weight of the Body in Various Animals. 



Tunny fish 1 : 

Land tortoise 1 : 

1: 

1: 

1: 

1 

1 

1: 



Shad 

Ox 

Kangaroo. 
Tadpole.... 
Elephant... 
Sheep 



37,500 

2,250 

1,837 

860 

800 

720 

500 

345 



Dog 1: 305 



Pmch I: 231 

Cat 1 : 160 

Eagle 1 : 156 

Babbit 1: 14Q 

Pigeon 1 : 104 

Rat 1: 82 

Gibbon 1: 50 

Sai ape 1: 25 

Canary 1: 14 



You can readily find some discrepancies between the rank as- 
signed in this table and the animal's actual position in the scale 
of intelligence. It is obvious enough that the order indicated 
does not correspond with the intelligence of the respective ani- 
mals. For example, none of you would regard the elephant a 
less intelligent animal than the sheep, notwithstanding the table 
to the contrary. 

The fact of the matter is that brain weight has been regarded 
by too many as an absolute index of the relative position of 
an animal in the scale of intelligence. The average weight of 
the adult male European brain is 49 to 50 ounces, that of the 
adult female 44 to 45 ounces, making the brain of a man weigh, 
as a rule, 10 per cent, more than that of a woman. The average 
brain weight of the African, Malay and Mongolian is from one 
to four and a half ounces less than that of the Caucasian. Dr. 
Bernard Davis advances four interesting conclusions that have 
a bearing on this point: 1st, that the average brain weight is 
considerably higher in the civilized European than in the savage 
races; 2d, that the range of variation is much greater in the 
former than in the latter; 3d, that there is an absence, almost 
complete, of specimens heavier than 54 ounces belonging to the 
exotic races; 4th, that though the male brains are heavier than 



64 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

female there is not the same amount of difference in the average 
brain between the two sexes in the uncultivated as in the culti- 
vated people. 

At birth the brain of the infant weighs about ten ounces. It 
reaches the maximum size about the eighth year, but keeps on 
increasing in weight until the person is about 30 or 40. You re- 
member that Byron's brain is said to have weighed 79 oz., Crom- 
well's 78 oz.; that of Cuvier 64 oz., that of Agassiz 53.5 oz., and 
that of Webster 55 oz. But in this connection it must also be re- 
membered that high-brain weights are oftentimes found in the in- 
sane. In fact, insanity is sometimes caused by brain enlargement. 
In the insane asylum of West Riding, out of 375 male brains ex- 
amined, thirty were found which weighed 55 ounces or upward. 
Thurnam reports one of an epileptic which weighed 64 1-2 ounces. 
When yet a boy I remember seeing a brain which weighed 62 
ounces. It was the brain of an insane man who had committed 
suicide near our home by hanging himself. Dr. Langdon Davis 
examined the brain of a 22-year-old idiot, which weighed 59 1-2 
ounces. The heaviest brain of which we have authentic record be- 
longed to an insane person. The man from whom it was taken 
was a brick layer 38 years old, who died from pyemia in the Uni- 
versity College Hospital in 1849. According to Obersteiner 963 
grams is the smallest recorded weight of a male brain compatible 
with intelligence; likewise 788 is the smallest weight of the female 
brain that has been found to be compatible with intelligence. 

It should also be remarked in this connection that no uniform 
method of removing the brain from the skull has been adopted 
by the various investigators. Some will, in addition to the 
brain proper, remove a small portion of the cord, which, of 
course, adds to the total weight. Many brains cannot be con- 
veniently weighed until considerable blood or moisture is lost. 
Thus you see the methods of comparing brains with reference to 
their weights leave room for improvement so far as accuracy is 
concerned. Brain weight can never be set down as a criterion of 
intelligence. A much better basis for such a judgment is found 
in the amount of brain surface. Wealth of brain surface means, 



THE BRAIN AND ITS FUNCTIONS. 



65 



1500 
Grams 



O Years 



to Years 



20 Years 25 



1000 
Grams 



500 
Grams 



^ d-J^^^^^X^-' 


'^\/ yW " /\ 




jf - 


^5 


t^ 


t 


I 


1 


- 


\Z 







f IGUEE 10.— The above curve indicates the growth of the brain with reference to 
its absolute weight in both males and females for the first twenty-five years. 
The curve is based upon the published tables of Vierordt in the Archiv fiir 
Anatomie unci Physiologie, Band, 1890. The heavy (upper) line indicates the 
increase in weight of the male brain from year to year, and the light (lower) 
lines shows the same with reference to the brain of females. The weights are 
expressed in grams. 
L. P.-5 



66 



PRACTICAL LESSONS FN PSYCHOLOGY. 



of course, a much- wrinkled, many fissured and very convoluted 
brain. Of two brains equal in size and weight, the one having 
the more fissures and deeper convolutions is the more "intelli- 
gent" brain. Thus the brain of the Hottentot "Venus," when 
examined by Gratiolet, exhibited very few convolutions, and 
these, were not at all complicated. Compare with this the brain 




Figure 11.— Diagram showing the relative amount of brain surface exposed to 
view and sunken between the gyri. The larger circle (A) represents the entire 
brain surface ; the smaller circle ( B) represents the portion sunken between the 
gyri and hidden from view ; the narrow zone or area between the two circum- 
ferences represents the portion exposed to view. 



of a journalist, as pictured by Bastian, and you will find that 
the latter has uniformly more convolutions which are very 
intricate in their nature. But when the latter is in turn com- 
pared with the brain of Gauss, the celebrated mathematician, 



THE BRAIN AND ITS FUNCTIONS. 67 

you find that the latter brain has not only as many convo- 
lutions, but they are very much deeper and much more tortu- 
ous, consequently involving more brain surface — hence a brain 
indicative of greater intelligence. In the average brain much of 
the surface is sunken between the convolutions or gyri. In fact, 
but little over one-third of the actual surface of the cortex is ex- 
posed to view. The average extent of the entire surface of the 
cerebral hemispheres, including that which is sunken between the 
gyri, as well as that exposed to view, has been found to be 2,500 
square centimeters, or about 388 square inches. The area of the 
sunken portion is almost exactly twice that of the portion ex- 
posed to view. It is therefore 677 square centimeters, or 258 
square inches. (See Fig. 11.) 

One of the most notable peculiarities of the human cerebrum is 
that its two hemispheres are not equally or symmetrically devel- 
oped. It is not infrequently the fact in the case of right-handed 
persons (therefore "left-brained ") , that the left hemisphere is not 
only more highly convoluted than the right, but it is frequently 
slightly longer than its fellow, causing the tip of the left occipital 
lobe to project distinctly behind that of the right side. In such 
a case the right hemisphere is rather flattened at the tip of the 
occipital lobe, while the left is sharply conical in its termination. 
In a large number of brains this is plainly observable, especially 
in the brains of women, I have a brain lying on my study table 
now (the brain of a woman) in which the left hemisphere extends 
more than an inch further bac^k than does the right. Doctor 
Boyd, a prominent English anatomist, has also made the claim 
that the brain in the left hemisphere is heavier than the right by 
about half an ounce. This is denied by some, and would prove 
nothing if it were so. 

When, however, you compare the brains of various animals 
you are soon convinced that the development and expansion 
(and therefore convolution) of the cerebral hemispheres form a 
good criterion of the animal's mental life and intelligence. If we 
look at the matter from a broad and general point of view, we 
find that the greatest importance must be attached to the great 



68 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

convolutional complexity in the brain of man. With respect 
to convolutional devplopment man stands at the head of the 
quadrumanous type of animals, just as elephants stand at the 
head of the herbivorous type, and just as the great whale holds 
a similar position with respect to the carnivorous type. Though 
the bony cavity of the human skull, or brain chamber, is so 
shaped that the largest possible area is obtained for the superfi- 
cial gray matter of the brain, yet the increased area thus gained 
does not prove at all sufficient for the needs of man's intellectual 
and moral life ; it has still to be increased by the occurrence of 
further secondary foldings in the cerebral convolutions. Further- 
more, there is always increased convolutional complexity in the 
cerebral hemispheres in the higher as compared with the lower 
races of man. The high degree of convolutional development at- 
tained in the brain of man is a matter of the greatest significance. 
The fissures are then seemingly for the purpose of economiz- 
ing space because by means of their presence there can be a con- 
siderable increase in the amount of brain surface without increas- 
ing the size of the head itself. It may be interesting to know 
that the brain fissures or "channels" are actually produced by 
the arteries. The more work the animal has to do with his 
brain the more blood does his brain require. The network of 
arteries covering the cortex become stronger and sink deeper 
producing more and deeper fissures, extending, as it were, the 
brain system of irrigation. So you see then the fact that " the 
higher the order of any animal's intelligence, the richer is its 
brain in the number of convolutions" is intimately and directly 
related to the other fact that the higher the animal's position in 
the scale of intelligence the greater is the amount of arterial 
blood needed and used by the brain. 

The forms of brain found in the adult individuals of the lower 
animal species, e. g., marmoset (Fig. 12,) are very similar 
indeed to the form found in the huma,n embryo in certain early 
stages of its development. To sum up the whole matter in the 
form of a general conclusion, we are led to say that wealth of 
brain surface, as made possible by the developmeut in size, num- 



THE BRAIN AND ITS FUNCTIONS. 



69 



ber and depth of the cerebral convolutions, is the most charac- 
teristic feature of the human brain. 

But far more important than the matter of brain weights, and 
even more significant than the amount of brain surface, is the 
question concerning the quantity and quality of the blood sup- 
ply already mentioned in another chapter of this book. The 
weight of the entire brain is ordinarily about one-fortyfifth of 
the body, but the quantity of blood used up in the brain is about 
one-eighth of that required by the whole body. You can readily 
see, then, the importance of pure blood and plenty of it. This 





Figure 12.— 1, brain of a marmoset; 2, brain of a human fetus (5th month); 
3, brain of a fox; 4, brain of a gibbon. 



leads me to again allude to the main points that came up in a 
discussion of the influence of the mental states upon bodily con- 
dition, especially upon the quantity and quality of the blood sup- 
ply. First, anger and other exciting passions increase the force 
of the heart's action, sometimes to an alarming extent. There 
have been instances of the bursting of a blood vessel from a fit of 
passion, e. g., the recent death of a well-known millionaire. Sec- 
ond, sorrow and grief cause the blood to move too slowly, 
making the power to resist disease very much less than what it 
should be; third, good nature and cheerfulness keep the circula- 
tion regular, and in this way assist in securing good health to 



70 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

the individual. You can also see why it is important that due 
heed be given to the effects of alcohol, drugs and tobacco upon 
the blood , since the brain uses such a large per cent, of the entire 
blood supply. One effect of alcohol is to make the blood too thin, 
unfitting it for nourishing the body and especially the brain. An- 
other is to shrink the little blood corpuscles so that they cannot 
carry the oxygen necessary to purify the blood and keep the body 
properly warm. It makes the blood impure, inducing fever and 
inflammation. It is a well-known fact that yellow fever and some 
other febrile diseases are nearly always fatal to those who drink 
much liquor. Kraft-Ebbing, the renowned pathological special- 
ist, asserts that a most intimate relation obtains between alco- 
holism and insanity— that all forms of insanity from melancholia 
to imbecility are found in alcoholism. Impure blood is the best 
of soil for the seeds of disease. With reference to tobacco, a very 
eminent physician says : ' ' Youths are far more affected by the use 
of tobacco than men are. They accustom themselves to it more 
slowly, and for a long period it lessens their appetite. Boys who 
smoke weaken their muscles, are much less disposed to bodily ac- 
tivity, and are seldom inclined to exercise. Smoking, then, inter- 
feres with appetite, impairs bodily activity, and in some way 
damages the circulation and the composition of the blood, which 
must, of course, affect the brain." All these facts pertaining to 
the weight of the brain mass, the extent of the cerebral surface, 
and the influence of the quantity and quality of the blood supply, 
manifest in a general way the real significance of the brain for the 
intellectual activities. The deeply convoluted and wrinkled rind of 
gray matter, which is the covering of the brain, has been shown 
to be the physical basis of man's highest and profoundest mental 
life. 

When we turn to experimental physiology for its deliverances 
we find that it points in no mistaken lines to the real importance 
of the different portions of the encephalic mass. If in a frog we 
sever the spinal cord from the brain by making a section below 
the medulla, we find that if the fiank of the frog be touched a 
slight twitching of the muscles will result. If one of the hind 



THE BRAIN AND ITS FUNCTIONS. > 71 

legs be stretched out and severely pinched it will respond by 
withdrawing itself from the irritating cause. When the irrita- 
tion is increased the foreleg will also be employed to secure relief, 
and sometimes the legs on the opposite side of the body, thus 
showing it to be a purposeful action. If you irritate this ''brain- 
less" frog at different portions of the skin with acid, you find it 
will perform certain remarkable defensive movements in its en- 
deavors to wipe away the irritant. Touch the knee with the 
acid, it will be rubbed with the back of the foot; cut away this 
foot, the stump will be used ineffectually until after a pause, 
when the unmutilated foot will be applied to the irritated spot. 
When the skin over the breast is made the subject of irritation itis 
vigorously rubbed with both of the forepaws. This series of precise 
movements, manifesting purpose and design, are carried on by 
the spinal cord of itself. These phenomena are not peculiar to 
the frog alone. Other brainless animals manifest similar move- 
ments. Decapitate a salamander and pinch one of its sides; it 
will bend that side into a concave shape. It is said that Robin, 
on tickling the breast of a criminal an hour after decapitation, 
saw the arm and hand move directly toward the irritated spot. 

On passing upward to the medulla, we find that it is given 
over to certain special functions, particularly those which have to 
do with the activities of the lowest animal life. These are much 
more complex and of a higher order than those, as we found 
above, belonging to the spinal cord. The medulla is directly re- 
lated in some way to the action of the heart and to the blood 
vessels. It is the "central organ" for breathing, coughing and 
sneezing; for swallowing, hiccoughing and vomiting, as well as 
laughing, sighing, crying, sobbing and weeping. The breathing- 
center in the medulla was first located by Flourens. It has since 
been called the "vital knot," because the least injury to it will 
prove fatal in that it causes cessation of breathing. That these 
various movements and activities are boimd up in oneanotherin 
their relation to the medulla is shown in ordinary strangulation, 
however slight. Thus, when a dry cracker crumb lodges in one's 
"Sunday throat," swallowing, coughing, shedding tears, and 



72 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

changes in the breathing and circulation inevitably result. It is 
quite common to hear one say, "I laughed till I cried." It can, 
therefore, be said that when we have an animal in which the 
spinal cord and medulla are united and remain intact, though 
severed from the superior organs, we have a mechanism that 
will execute movements of which the spinal cord alone is incap- 
able. A frog, with its spinal cord and medulla will endeavor to 
turn over when laid on its back and when placed in the water it 
will swim. Ayoung rat, in which the medulla and spinal cord are 
intact, but severed from the organs lying above, will squeal if its 
legs are pinched, and it is able to swallow ; it will also kick in its 
endeavor to free itself. 

We now pass to another question of exceedingly great interest, 
but one very difficult to answer, and one which is by no means, 
settled, though master minds have struggled with the matter for 
over two centuries. The question is : What are the functions of 
the cerebellum? There is a uniform agreement supporting the 
conclusion that the cerebellum is the center that is most inti- 
mately associated with the balancing of the body. Thus the 
staggering of the man who has imbibed too freely of "Tangle- 
foot" whisky is due to temporary inflammation produced by 
congestion of the blood on the surface of the cerebellum. In the 
disease known as phi-enitis, in common vertigo, or "blind stag- 
gers," which frequently attacks the horse, veterinarians always 
open the skull at a point directly over tho cerebellum until sev- 
eral quarts of blood are set free. We find, too, in the frog hav- 
ing the cerebellum in addition to the spinal cord and medulla, 
that its locomotion is nearly normal on a level, but it cannot 
climb up an inclined surface; it will also croak when pinched on 
the side under the arms. In a recent article* I published the re- 
sults of an extended series of observations made upon the brain 
of a cat whose cerebellum was diseased. 

This cat had suddenly become paralyzed when three months 
old. For several days he was disinclined to eat, and all attempts 

*• Atrophy of the Cerebellum in a Cat.— Journal of Nervous and Mental Diseases, 
October, 1892. 



THE BRAIN AND ITS FUNCTIONS. 73 

at locomotion were accompanied by spasmodic jerkings. In the 
act of walking, the hinder parts seemed to get along considerably 
faster than the fore limbs, and faster than he desired, giving a 
ludicrous effect. After a time he recovered his appetite and again 
became cheerful and lively as usual. He continued to improve; 
and with the exception of the permanent disability to the limbs, 
he seemed to be as well as ever, for his development was not re- 
tarded, since he grew to normal size. 

When brought to the laboratory the cat was eleven months 
old. While he could walk and trot his gait was zigzag and stag- 
gering, since his hind legs spread somewhat laterally in locomo- 
tion. Incoordinance of the limbs was quite marked; the hind- 
legs were raised very high and placed so far forward as to 
overstep the forelegs in walking; the movements of the head and 
neck were spasmodic and jerky. An autops}^ revealed the fact 
that all portions of the brain and spinal cord were in normal 
condition except the cerebellum. With the aid of a micrometer 
eye-piece accurate measurements were made of the outer gray 
cortical layer. Over one thousand of these measurements were 
made. It was found that the thickness of this outer gray layer 
was only about half that which was found in the cerebellum of 
the normal cat. Since no other part of the nervous system ex- 
cept the cerebellum was found to be at all affected by disease, 
and since the cat manifested marked disturbances in locomotion, 
it is very evident, at least with reference to this particular case, 
that the cerebellum contains within its cortex the centers that 
are most immediately concei-ned with coordination of the limbs, 
balancing of the body, and locomotion itself. 

All then that is really known about the functions of the cere- 
bellum might be summed up in a general way in the words of 
Bastian, who regards it as "a supreme motor center for rein- 
forcing and regulating the quantitative and (jualitative distribu- 
tion of outgoing currents in voluntary and automatic movements, 
respectively." 



LESSON VII. 

THE BRAIN AND ITS FUNCTIONS (CONTINUED). 

We now come to speak more particularly of the cerebral hemi- 
spheres in their relation to man's conscious psychical life. The 
importance of the cerebrum as the physical basis of mental 




Figure 13.— Showing localization of sensory and motor functions on the lateral 
surface of the monkey's brain. (Left hemisphere.) 

activity can scarcely be overrated. In fact, we must have some 
activity of the cerebral hemispheres in order to make each state 
of consciousness a possible fact. Unless stimulations that occur 
at the periphery of the body, are conveyed in some form to the 
gray rind of the cerebrum giving rise to some sort of neural pro- 
cess within it, no consciousness or " awareness," of the stimula- 
tion can possibly result. This same cerebral cortex must also 
take the initiative in all voluntary motions. It must be remem- 
bered, therefore, that the physical basis of the conscious mental 
activities in man is the gray convoluted cerebral cortex. 
(74) 



THE BRAIN AND ITS FUNCTIONS. 



75 



Not all parts of the cerebral cortex respond to the same sort 
of excitations or give birth to the same kind of sensations. 
Neither are all localities in the convoluted cortex concerned in 
motor impulses of the same group or class. The cerebral cortex 
is therefore a very complex organ; or, rather, it is more like a very 
complicated keyboard, the response coming from those parts 
that are in direct relation to certain specific forms of stimulation. 
Or, as Prof. E. Hering puts it, "The different parts of the hemi- 
spheres are like a great tool box with a countless variety of tools. 




Figure 14.— Motor and Sensory centers on the Lateral Surface of the Cerebrum. 



Each single element of the cerebrum is a particular tool. Con- 
sciousness may be likened to an artisan whose tools gradually 
become so numerous, so varied and so specialized that he has for 
every minutest detail of his work a tool which is specially adapted 
to perform just this precise kind of work very easily and accu- 
rately. If he loses one of his tools he still possesses a thousand 
other tools to do the same work, though under disadvantages 
both with reference to adaptability and the time involved. 
Should he happen to lose the use of these thousand also, he 



76 



PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSTCHOLOGT. 



might retain hundreds with which to do the work still, but under 
greatly increased difficulty. He must needs have lost a very 
large number of his tools if certain actions become absolutely 
impossible." 

We knoWjfor example, that a current passing to theback part 
of the brain gives rise to sensations of vision. It makes but 
little difference whether this neural current comes through the 
eye or not, for you know that even a slight mechanical jar or 
concussion at the back of the head is sufficient to cause one to 




Figure 16.— Motor and sensory centers on the mesial (inner) surface of 
the cerebrum. 



" see stars " and even comets and other luminaries. If the neural 
excitation occurs at some other portion of the cortical surface we 
have some other sensation as a result. Despite all conflicting 
opinions it is now a settled fact that a science of cerebral local- 
ization is possible. All of the achievements in this line of re- 
search have been made within the last twenty years, and the 
most noteworthy ones even more recently. The most prominent 
investigators in this field of research are Munk, Ferrier, Exner, 
Horsley, Schafer, Goltz, Fritsch and Hitzig. 



THE BRAIN AND ITS FUNCTIONS. 77 

The first attempt in this direction was made by Gall, who 
founded the so-called " Science of Phrenology." He started with 
the presupposition that the skull, being the case containing the 
brain, ought show the brain formation itself. Such an assump- 
tion, while partially true, is in the main erroneous, since it over- 
looks the fact that the skulls of different individuals, or the same 
skull at different portions, vary greatly in thickness. He also 
lost sight of the fact that the skull bones can and do sometimes 
thicken both ways. A prominent "bump," like that of "Vanity," 
•'Ambition," or "Memory for Words, "may really be found on the 
cranium of a person entirely devoid of the qualities suggested. 
The errors of phrenology are now quite generally admitted, and 
so bald are these mistakes that in scientific circles it is entirely 
abandoned, because as a "system" or "science" it is fallacious 
in everj'^ respect. The remarks of the southern colored preacher, 
with reference to the "efficacy " of phrenology, is certainly to the 
point; if his thought is not clothed in the most elegant language, 
his deductions are none the less pertinent — " Brudders and 
sisters! Do I heah you'n's talk about phrenology? Don't you 
know dat you can't tell how man}' hams dey is in de smokehouse 
by feeling ob de roof?" Certain it is that, altogether defective 
in its psychological analysis, preeminentlj'- unsatisfactory in its 
localizations, unreliable in its methods, and inconclusive in its 
results, there is nothing in phrenology that merits the respectful 
attention of the real student. 

It is a perfectly well-established fact that the so-called "cen- 
tral" convolution (situated on either side of the fissure of Ro- 
lando, see Fig. 6) forms the region from which nearly all the 
motor impulses pass out from the cerebral cortex. All authori- 
ties agree that the motor regions do lie around this fissure of 
Rolando. So certain is this that it is called the " motor zone." 
More plain and clear than a detailed description are the accom- 
panying figures, which exhibit the arrangement of the specific 
centers, more especially those in the motor zone on the surface 
of the monkey's, as well as the human, cerebrum. (Figs. 13, 
14 and 15.) 



78 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCBOLOGT. 

One of the most interesting and instructive truths bearing upon 
the question of localization of cerebral function is based upon evi- 
dence supplied by the disease known as aphasia. Aphasia is a gen- 
eral namegiven to the disease which involves a partial or complete 
loss of the faculty of intelligent speech. It is not caused by any 
structural impairment of the vocal organs, but by so me lesion in the 
cortex. The cortical area generally affected in this pathological 
state is the posterior third of the third frontal (or Broca's) con- 
volution. (See " Speech " center, Fig. 14.) Aphasia is neither 
the loss of the voice nor paralysis of the tongue or lips. The phe- 
nomena of this disease are exceedingly varied. In all true apha- 
sia the connection between ideas and articulate language is inter- 
rupted within the cortical areas of the cerebrum itself. Speech 
processes in the cerebral cortex are both sensory and motor. By 
means of the sensory, language is received ; by means of the mo- 
tor processes, it is uttered. We have, then, both sensory and 
motor aphasia. In the aphasic state, though the mental condi- 
tion may be more or less impaired, it is never so to such an ex- 
tent as to prevent the formation of ideas. The difficulty lies in 
the fact that the patient cannot recollect the appropriate words 
or their meaning, and is thus unable to give his thoughts the 
proper expression. In other words, he has lost the power of 
coordinating and arranging the elements of a sentence in a 
proper manner for the purposes of spoken or written language. 
The patient is always cognizant of his errors in utterance. To 
illustrate : A case occurred recently in one of the New York City 
hospitals. The person afflicted was a man of more than ordi- 
nary intelligence. He desired a knife with which to eat his food. 
He had a clear idea of what he wanted ; he wanted a knife. But, 
mark you, each time he attempted to say '-knife'' the words 
"bushel of wheat "would come unbidden from his lips. You see 
that, notwithstanding his clear idea of the object desired, he 
could not bring about the appropriate processes of innervation 
by means of which he might utter the proper word. 

This is quite similar to another case, that of a young lady of 
twenty-two, who suddenly became unconscious while straining to 



THE BRAIN AND ITS FUNCTIONS. 79 

lift a heavy load. When consciousness returned she showed no 
signs of paralysis, but it was with difficulty that she found words 
with which to speak. She would confound or mutilate the com- 
monest names— e. g., she would say "butter" instead of "doc- 
tor." Not understanding a single word spoken to her, she was at 
first taken to be deaf, but it was soon discovered that she heard 
the knock at the door, the tick of the watch, or the hum of a bee 
as distinctly and clearly as ever before, and she could also distin- 
guish the pitch and quality of tones. 

Quite recently, while in Germany, my attention was called to 
a very interesting case of asphasia in one of the hospitals of Ber- 
lin. A German army officer had been thrown from his horse in 
one of the military maneuvers which took place in the celebra- 
tion of the anniversary of the battle of Sedan. In the fall he 
received, his head struck the hard concrete pavement; at first he 
was unconscious. Soon after his return to consciousness it was 
discovered that he could not articulate a single word. Every at- 
tempt at utterance resulted in dismal failure. Nothing came of 
his painful endeavors save a series of unintelligible and incongru- 
ous sounds. After five weeks an examination of the brain itself 
was determined upon, for after a careful diagnosis the trouble 
could be assigned to no other cause than to an injury to the speech 
center itself. The operation of trephining took place. When a 
small portion of bone was removed, a little hardened clot of 
blood was found between the dura mater and the skull bone itself 
directly over the speech center, as indicated in the figure on page 
75. This blood clot was carefully removed bj^ washing with a 
jet of warm distilled water. Three weeks after the operation was 
performed, the patient had fully regained his ability to speak and 
write correctly. 

A still more interesting case is that reported by Doctors Carson 
and Bremer, of St. Louis. The patient is a healthy and well-built 
man of about twenty-one years. Two weeks previous to the 
doctor's visit he went to a wedding, became intoxicated, and on 
his way home fell between the joists of a new building. This was 
his statement subsequent to his recovery after the operation. 



80 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

He went home and was found asleep in the kitchen of his parent's 
house the following morning. Except what appeared to be the 
effects of the liquor he seemed to be in his usual health. In fact, 
nothing was mentioned by him with reference to his fall. Being- 
out of work, he stayed at home and rarely left the house, com- 
plaining off and on of a dull headache on the left side of the fore- 
head, which became more violent in the afternoon. After about 
one week he began to stay about his home. While walking on the 
street about one block from the house he suddenly became un- 
conscious and fell. This unconsciousness did not last long, how- 
ever, and he was assisted home by a person who was near at the 
time. Soon after, it was discovered by his family that he had some 
difficulty in speaking. He now^ for the first time intimated to his 
family that he met with an accident on the night of the weddfng. 

There was no trace of any injury to his head. He understood 
every word that was spoken to him, every question that was 
asked. Unfortunately, although not entirely illiterate, the pa- 
tient was not possessed of sufficient education to render very 
profitable the examination with a view to discovering the par- 
ticular form of aphasia. Only the most elementary questions 
could be asked of him, the scope of his intellect being limited. In 
order to test his mental caliber and ascertain the nature of the 
trouble in his speech a number of questions were asked. The 
principal ones were : 

Do you know what this is (showing him a glass) ? 

Ans. Zer. 

Q. Is it a glass ? 

Ans. Yes. 

When a pitcher is shown him he calls it a "tipper;" a pen 
he calls " riglah ; " a spittoon " sempen," a hat " sem." 

Q. Do you call this (the hat) "sem ? " 

Ans. No. 

Q. Is it a hat ? 

Ans. Yes. 

Q. What is this (showing him a match) ? 

Ans. "Ses." 



THE BRAIN AND ITS FUNCTIONS. 81 

In order to demonstrate that he knows what it is, he makes 
the movement of striking a match. A book he calls "pok," 
handkerchief, "sempence;" suspender also "sempence;" for 
pocket-knife he gives the correct name; but when shown a bunch 
of keys, he also says "pocket knife." After this he calls every- 
thing that is shown him "pocket; " for example, a watch and 
a button. 

When requested to repeat a word spoken to him he is un- 
able to do so. He understands perfectly what he reads. He 
is handed a newspaper with an advertisement of an entertain- 
ment in the St. Louis Exposition Building. By putting a great 
variety of questions, some of them misleading, one becomes 
aware that he is familiar with the location of the building and 
the purposes for which it is built. He is asked to read an adver- 
tisement of a boxing match, the name of the prize fighter is 
pointed out to him and the inquiry is made. What is he? Is he 
a preacher? This causes him to laugh. In short, there is no 
flaw in his perceptive and reasoning powers as far as can be as- 
certained by a necessarily limited conversation, and as far as 
short acquaintance will allow. On being told to write, he 
holds the pen in an awkward manner and drops it repeatedly. 
He never has been much of a penman, but has been able to write 
simple letters. It is now utterly impossible for him to express 
his thoughts in writing, and even the most commonplace and 
everyday expressions, when dictated, he fails to fix by letters. 

An operation was agreed upon, a portion of the bone was tre- 
phined and when the dura mater was exposed it presented a dark 
cloudy appearance with all evidence of pulsation wanting. Upon 
raising the dura, a stream of dark, thick blood forced itself 
through the opening. With a dull-edged curette the greater part 
of the clot was removed and smaller portions subsequently taken 
away by means of saturation with a very fine sponge. The ex- 
tent of this blood clot is outlined in the accompanying figure. 
(See next page.) The patient soon returned to consciousness, 
apparently none the worse for the operation. On the next day 
after bhe operation the patient was stupid and unable to speak, 
L. p.— 6 



82 



PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 



his condition being that of complete motor-phasia. On the 
second day after the operation, in all efforts to speak, he prefixed 
"shay" to words. He could, however, answer "yes" and "no" 
correctly, "yes " having the " sh " sound very marked. A watch 
was pronounced "swat," keys "shkeys," half-dollar " shalf-dol- 
lar." On the third day, in answer to questions, he said that he 
"felt well" and that he "liked the hospital." He could speak 
words without the sibilant sound. On the fourth day all words 
were spoken correctly, and reply made to all questions with clear 




Figure 16. 

answers. Three months after the operation finds the patient 
hard at his daily tasks in a brickyard. He is now in his usual 
health, with all his faculties intact and a steady worker. 

Dr. Laplace, of Philadelphia, reports in one of the recent jour- 
nals* a singular aphasic case of surpassing interest. The person, 
in this instance, suffered from a gun-shot wound in the brain, 
causing a form of aphasia, in which the loss of names was the 
striking feature. The report reads something as follows : — 

* Journal of Nervous and Mental Diseases, March, 1898. 



THE BRAIN AND ITS FUNCTIONS. 88 

August 4, 1892, Lizzie Albert, aged nineteen, received a gun- 
shot wound in the forehead at the apex of the glabella ; there 
was a fracture of the skull, and penetration of the bullet, accord- 
ing to the testimony of the physician who saw her immediately 
after the accident. She became unconscious and remained so 
during three weeks. Meanwhile several splinters of bone were 
removed from the seat of the penetration of the bullet. The 
wound graduall}"" healed, leaving a slight depression. As she 
recovered consciousness, she complained of a severe pain, con- 
stant and almost unbearable, the seat of which was in the left 
occipital region, keeping her mind always fixed upon that point; 
she suffered no pain otherwise about the cranium. The patient is 
a strong young woman. As a result of the injury most interest- 
ing intellectual symptoms occurred, her physical condition, how- 
ever, remaining entirely unimpaired. When complaining of the 
pain at the back of her head, she says that she " sees it ; " when 
asked what? she answei-s "Yes." If asked "What hurts?" 
she says "It hurts." When asked if the bullet hurts, she 
says "Yes." 

It seems that the various organs of sense refer their impres- 
sion to the same centers . For instance, if asked if she hears a 
particular sound, such as a tuning fork, she will answer, " Yes; I 
.see it." If given anything to take and asked whether she likes it, 
she answers, " Yes, I see it." Likewise if anything is given her to 
smell, she saysshealso " sees " the sensation of smell. It seems to 
her an impossibility to repeat a word spoken to her, though she 
fully understands everything. In her conversation she uses no 
names of persons or things, but knows every person and recog- 
nizes everything. For instance, if shown a hat and asked what 
that is, she will say, " It is yes ;" but asked the name of it she will 
say, "I do not know." If asked, "Is this a book?" she will say, 
" No." "Is it a hat? " she will say "Yes." Should we write on 
paper the word cap, in presenting her the hat, she will say, "That 
is not it." If changing the word slightly we make it "coat," 
showing her the hat, she will say, " That is not it." If, changing 
the word slightly and writing the word hat, and. asked whether 



84 PRACTICAL LESSONS LN PSYCHOLOGY. 

that was it, she will say. "Yes." If asked her name, she will 
answer, "I do not know." If asked whether her name is Katie, 
she will say " No." If asked whether it is Lizzie, she will answer 
"Yes." Asking her to write her name, although she says she 
does not know her name, she will write it correctly — Lizzie 
Albert. If asked whether that is her name, she will say, "Yes." 
If asked what her name is," I do not know," "I cannot tellyou." 
Should I write her name, misspelling it in any manner, she will 
say immediately'," That is wrong." If asked, " What is wrong ? " 
she will point out the letter in the word which makes it mis- 
spelled, and until the name is properly spelled she will insist on 
its being wrong. 

Her judgment seems to be perfectly clear; that is, she says or 
does nothing which would in the least compromise the condition 
of her intelligence. There seems, however, to be a destruction of 
such fibers as lead to those portions of the frontal lobe as consti- 
tute the center of memory for names of persons and things. 

Another disorder very similar to aphasia is that known as 
agraphia — the loss of the power to write. Such persons can 
speak correctly, can read writing and understand it clearly, 
but it is impossible for them to use the pen at all, or, in partial 
eases of agraphia, many errors are made. I happen to be 
acquainted with a well-educated woman living in Cleveland who 
is partially agraphic. With two exceptions she can make every 
letter with facility; indeed, she writes a very legible hand. But 
the two letters — k and r, which, by the way, occur in her own 
name, present insuperable difficulties. Try hard as she may she 
cannot possibly write these two letters. She knows exactly what 
letters she desires to make and how they ought to be made ; she 
knows just what movement of the fingers is required in each case, 
but she cannot bring about the proper movements themselves. 
There is no paralysis of the fingers or hand, she simply finds it 
impossible to bring to pass those central processes of innerva- 
tion that are necessary in the formation of these two letters. 
In writing her own name she makes instead of the k and r two 
characters which are more like some of the forms included in the 



THE BRALN AND ITS FUNCTIONS. 85 

Chinese alphabet than thej are like the letters she endeavors so 
hard to make. 

There are some eases recorded in which highly cultivated per- 
sons are unable to make a single letter with a pen. Others will 
arrange the letters improperly, making a meaningless jumble, in- 
stead of words clear in their meaning. The following interesting 
case is recorded by Dr. Jackson : 

"An elderly, healthy-looking woman suddenly became ill five 
weeks before admission to the hospital. She lost the entire 
power of speech for a week, and was also paralyzed on the right 
side. When examined there was no apparent hemiplegia , but she 
complained of weakness in the right side. She could then talk 
biit made mistakes. For instance, when I was trying her sense 
of smell, which was very defective since the paralysis, she said in 
answer to a question, ' 1 can't sayit so much,' meaning she could 
not smpll so well. She frequently made mistakes in spelling and 
called her children by wrong names. This was never very evident 
when she came to the hospital, and might have easily been over- 
looked, but her friends complained much of it. She seemed very 
intelligent. Her power of expression by writing, however, was 
very bad, although her penmanship was pretty good, consider- 
ing that she wrote with her weakened right hand. She wrote the 
following at the hospital. I first asked her to write her name. I 
do not like, for obvious reasons, to give her real name for com- 
parison : it had not, however, the slightest resemblance to the 
following in sound or spelling : 

' Sunnil Siclaa Satreni.' 
When I asked her to write her address, she wrote — 
' Sunese nut ts mer tinn-lain.' 

Thinking she might have been nervous when she wrote at the 
hospital, she was asked to bring something she had written at 
home. She did so, but the specimen was not the least bit better 
thanwhat she had previously given. It is a perfectly meaning- 



86 PRACTICAL LESSONS L\ PSTCHOLOGT. 

less assemblage of letters, notable only for the frequent repeti- 
tion of small groups of them in a fashion which is frequently the 
case in agraphic persons. The center immediately concerned in 
these agraphic disorders is quite definitely located, being, of 
course (in all right-handed persons), on the left side of the brain, 
and within the finger, thumb and wrist region indicated in the 
figure. (See Fig. 14.) In case this center when diseased does 
not get well the patient usually educates his right hemisphere, 
i. e., learns to write with his left hand." 

In the same way that the understanding for spoken and writ- 
ten words can be lost to the patient, so can the power of under- 
standing and comprehending figures. A case has been recorded 
of an accountant who was ])ei-fectly able to read the number 766 
a digit at a time, but had no comprehension of the value of a 
group of these figures. In all cases of aphasia the patient is 
somewhat in the position of the intelligent animal who hears 
well enough the language addressed to him, but cannot make re- 
ply or fully understand its deepest meaning. Or perhaps a better 
analogy would be the case of the Irishman who, when looking in 
the window of a tea shop at an advertisement with its array of 
Chinese characters, being asked if he could read these arbitrary 
signs, replied that hecould not read such "spalpeen" characters, 
but that he could play them on his flute. 

The classical case of the patient Le Long, recorded by Broca , 
serves well to illustrate the condition in incomplete aphasia. 
" Le Long had command of only five words which he would add 
by way of supplement to the expressive gestures he usually em- 
ployed ; they were oui, non, tois (for trois), toujours, and Le Lo 
(for Le Long), three complete words accordingly, and two mu- 
tilated ones. With his oui he expressed affirmation, with non 
negation ; with tois he expressed numerical concepts of all de- 
grees, being able to indicate by a dextrous employment of his 
fingers the numbers he had in mind ; with Le Lo he denoted him- 
self ; toujours he used when he was unable to express his thoughts 
by aid of the other words at his command. Le Long pronounced 
the r in toujours correctly, but omitted it in trois, as children do 



THE BRAIN AND ITS FUNCTIONS. 87 

that have not yet overcome the difficulty of uniting the r with 
the preceding t's ; he had lost beyond recall this knack of articu- 
lation. The nasal sound which he correctly articulated in non he 
could not give to the last letters of his own name." 

The remarkable fact that in the function of speech the left 
hemisphere is more directly concerned than the right, is now well 
established. Seguin found from a collection of two hundred and 
sixty reports of cases of this type, that the number of instances 
in which aphasia arises from lesion on the left side, stands in 
proportion to the number of those in which impairment occurs on 
the right side, as 14.3 : 1; with reference to which it must be re- 
marked that — as has been shown by other calculations — no de- 
ception is here caused by the possible circumstance that in gen- 
eral more injuries occur on the left side than on the right. As 
Exner relates : " In this connection a case reported by Schwarzis 
of interest. In a well-developed three-year old girl, during con- 
valescence from measles, speechlessness with partial paralysis 
of the right arm suddenly set in. The lesion accordingly lay in 
the left hemisphere. The condition of the patient improved, yet 
the girl had to learn to talk again from the very beginning, and 
in so doing acted like the normal child that is learning to speak." 

The analogy is still further applicable. It appears that so- 
called left-handed individuals, who, as contrasted with the ma- 
jority of men, have trained their right and not their left hem- 
ispheres to perform mechanical work, also employ their right 
hemispheres in speech. Pye Smith, Jackson, and John Ogle, 
Mongi^, Russel, and William Ogle have observed cases that ap- 
pear to substantiate this. Left-handed people had become 
aphasic through lesions on the right side of the brain, and a 
fact which proves more — in a collection which William Ogle 
made of one hundred cases of aphasia, there were three left- 
handed men, and in the case of each of these, the lesion affected 
the right hemisphere." 

The center of hearing lies in the temporal lobes. We know this 
because artificial stimulation of these portions of the cerebral 
cortex causes hallucinations of hearing. The "roaring" in the 



88 PRACTICAL LESSONS L\ PSYCHOLOGY. 

ears which eo frequently follows an overdose of qiiinine may also 
be instanced in this connection. In post mortem examinations 
the temporal lobes of deaf patients are generally found to be in 
an atrophied condition. Seppili reported a few months ago two 
interesting cases in this connection. The first was that of an 
autopsy on a deaf mute, a wound of long standing being ob- 
served in both temporal lobes. The second was the case of a left- 
handed person, whose left temporal lobe showed an old wound, 
no difficulty in hearing or speech having been experienced. From 
this and analogous cases Seppili concludes that in a left-handed 
person the auditive center of language is situated within the 
right hemisphere. His results form an interesting contribution 
with reference to the well-established principle that right-handed 
persons are left-brained (and vice versa), Q\Qn with reference to 
such functions as speech and hearing, of which right and left 
handedness cannot be directly predicated. 

The visual center in the human brain is in the occipital lobes. 
The most interesting pathological case in support of this view is 
that of the blind deaf-mute, Laura Bridgeman, the structure of 
whose brain has been studied with such painstaking thorough- 
ness by Professor H. H. Donaldson.* From a paper read by Dr. 
Donaldson before the Congress in Experimental Psychology 
which met in London, August 1892, we make the following excerpt : 

" Laura Bridgeman was born in 1829. She was a normal child 
and her development was undisturbed up to theend of her second 
year. At this age she suffered from an attack of scarlet fever 
which was very severe and from which the convalescence was 
tedious. It was then found that her senses of taste and smell 
had been much blunted, and that hearing had been entirely de- 
stroyed. Vision in the left eye had been completely lost, but was 
retained in the right to a verj slight extent. In her eighth year 
this remnant of vision was also lost. It was at this time that 
Dr. Howe undertook to educate her through her dermal senses 
alone. 

The remarkable results of his undertaking have now become 

* American Journal of Psychology, Vol. Ill, No. 3; Vol. IV, Nos. 2 and 4, 



THE BRAIN AND ITS FUNCTIONS. 89 

classic, not only because it required first-rate qualities in the 
teacher, and also it was the first time that an attempt had been 
successfully made to give an adequate means of expression to 
one thus defective. Laura died at the Perkins' Institute for the 
Blind at Boston in 1889, being in the sixtieth year of her age, 
and still mentally vigorous. Among other things the anatomi- 
cal study of the brain revealed the following facts : 

"The thickness of the cortex was determined by the examina- 
tion of fourteen localities in each hemisphere. From these ob- 
servations an average thickness for the cortex was deduced, and 
this was compared with an average similarly obtained from a. 
number of normal brains. The figure of the average thickness 
of the cortex of the Bridgeman brain was 2.62 mm., that for the 
normal brains 2.91 mm. The Bridgeman brain was therefore 
thinner by 0.3 mm., or about 11%. In this connectionit is inter- 
esting to notice that those parts of the cortex which, according 
to the current view, were to be associated with the defective sense 
organs, were also particularly thin. The cause of this thinness 
was found to be due, at least in part, to the small size of the 
nerve cells there present. Not only were the large and medium 
sized nerve cells smaller, but the impression made on the ob- 
server was that they were also less numerous than in the normal 
cortex. 

"Suggestive also was the fact that the cortex in the right 
occipital region, associated as it must have been with the left 
eye (the eye in which vision was earliest abolished), was much the 
thinner. This observation suggested that the case might be 
used to determine the extent of the visual cortex in man. It 
was assumed that in this case the earlier loss of vision in the 
left eye had been the cause of the excess of thinning on the 
right side and that the extent of this thin area would repre- 
sent that portion of the cortex directly influenced by the optic 
radiation.'' 

The researches in histology show clearly that in higher ani- 
mals, more particularly in man, the optic nerve contains one 
system of fibers which cross over to the opposite side and on^' 



90 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

system which remains uncrossed. The relation is peculiar, how- 
ever, in that the fibers from the left half of each retina go to the 
left hemisphere, while those of the right halves of theretinasgoto 
the right hemisphere. The retina of each eye in the case of man 
appears therefore to be represented on the cortical surface of 
both hemispheres of the brain. 

With reference to a cortical center for the sense of smell it (;an 
be said that we have anatomical evidence of considerable value. 
The intimate connection of the olfactory tract with the tip of 
the temporal lobe certainly furnishes strong grounds for suppos- 
ing a functional connection between that region and the sense of 
smell. The experiments of Ferrier* have the most direct bear- 
ing on this point. 

So far as known, the frontal lobes do not contain either sen- 
sory or motor centers. It has been regarded by some as the seat 
of the higher psychical activities, such as reflection, comparison 
and judgment. The emotions and affections are also assigned 
to this region of the brain. When the frontal portion of the 
hemispheres is removed in animals, e. g., the monkey, no irregu- 
larities in the exercise of the motor or sensory functions occur ; 
yet in such cases the animal appears more whimsical and less af- 
fectionate than before the operation. 

In connection with what has been said in this chapter with ref- 
erence to the localization of the cerebral functions and of the 
importance of these cortical areas in the relation to the motor 
and sensory life of man, it seems strange that occasionally man 
may lose much of the cortical gray matter of his brain without 
exhibiting any serious impairment of his faculties. If perchance 
any of the motor centers on one hemisphere have experienced an 
injury, the result will be the impairment of the body, yet the loss 
of some few of the sensory centers on one hemisphere will not be 
perceptible so long as the corresponding centers on the other 
hemisphere remain sound, except in this, that the person with 
but half a brain in normal condition will tire more easily than 
the person in whom both hemispheres are completely intact. 

*See " Functions of the Brain," p. 185 ff. 



THE BRAIN AND ITS FUNCTIONS. 91 

There are some interesting though exceedingly rare cases in 
which man has lost a large quantity of the cortical matter with- 
out apparent disorganization of his psychic life. The following 
cases are instanced by Hermann in Vol. II of his Physiologie : 

"Berenger de Corpi tells of a young man into whose brain a 
body four finger breadths in width and as manj^ in length had 
been driven so deep that it lay concealed by the matter of the 
brain. When it was removed a certain amount of cerebral sub- 
stance was lost, and thii'teen days afterwards a second discharge 
occurred spontaneously. The man recovered, showed no diseased 
symptoms, lived for a long time afterwards, and attained high 
distinction in the church. 

"Longet knew a general who, through a wound in the skull 
near the crown of his head, had suffered a considerable loss of 
l)rain substance. This defect permanently manifested itself by a 
flepression in the part of the skull affected. The general pre- 
served his activity of mind; his correct judgment in professional 
matters exhibited no traces of disease; only he was wont to tire 
quickly when engaged in intellectual work. 

" Quesnay tells of an old servant whose right parietal bone was 
crushed. Every day cerebral matter oozed from the wound and 
was removed. On the eighteenth day the patient fell out of bed, 
which resulted in further considerable losses of brain-substance. 
On the thirty -fifth day he got drunk; a fresh emission of cere- 
bral matter occurred which was caused by the patient's tearing 
away, in his intoxication, the bandages about the wound. On 
the day following it could be seen that the defect reached almost 
to the corpus callosuw. The patient got well; his psychical 
functions were restored to their complete activity, but he re- 
mained paralyzed on his left side. 

"During the blasting of a rock, a crowbar three feet and 
seven inches long, and one and a quarter inch thick struck a 
young man, and penetrating the head in the neighborhood of the 
joint of the left jaw, passed through the skull and came out on 
the same side in the region of the forehead, having thus run 
through the hemisphere of the brain. The man got well, lived 



92 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

twelve and a half years afterwards, and apart from the blind- 
ness caused by the injury to the ej'e, he showed no indications of 
abnormality, except certain fits of peevishness, caprice, and ob- 
stinacy. He also lost the former habit of profanity. 

"A whole hemisphere may sometimes be removed, without 
injury to the higher psychical functions. But in such a case dis- 
turbances of the motor functions on the opposite side appear 
regularly to set in." 

It is, however, quite a common occurrence in the case of ani- 
mals to have large lesions of the cortical matter unattended by 
serious mental defects. While at Strassburg in 1891, 1 visited 
Goltz's laboratory. Among other interesting objects a dog was 
shown me which had undergone a lesion of the entire cerebrum. 
I was told that the operation had been performed two years pre- 
vious to my visit to the laboratory. The dog was normal in most 
respects. He manifested much joy at being let out of his cage; 
masticated and swallowed meat; followed Prof. Ewald and my- 
self from one room to the other; stood on his hind legs and 
danced about when meat was held above him and out of his 
reach. He would jump over a stick and also run and frolic. A 
second animal shown me in the same laboratory was an ape with 
a complete lesion of the entire left cerebral hemisphere. The 
remarkable feature in the case was that the ape reached for his 
food with the right hand instead of the left, as would naturally 
be expected. Still when eating he seemed to prefer to hold the 
food in his left hand. He retained his wonted sauciness and at- 
tempted to scratch the face of every person who approached his 
cage. Of course lower animals use their higher cerebral centers 
less than man, and it is quite natural that they should so well 
withstand the partial or even complete loss of the cortical area 
on the hemispheres. 

You will remember that at the beginning of this chapter we 
spoke of cerebral localization as if it were an absolute fact, and 
such it actually is, if we confine our attention to man and mon- 
keys only. When, however, we study cerebral localization in the 
vertebrate neries, we find that it becomes less perfect as we pass 



THE BRAIN AND ITS FUNCTIONS. 93 

down the animal scale. I have already referred you to instances 
of animals, which, having- lost some of the brain substance, still 
apparently retain their mental faculties. In addition to the ex- 
amples already given ,we have still another furnished also by Goltz. 
The case is that of the brain of a dog with the right hemisphere 
removed. The animal lived about fourteen months after the last 
operation. The senses of sight, hearing, smell, and taste were 
more or less impaired. In the brain of a second dog it was in- 
tended to remove the frontal portion of both hemispheres. How- 
ever, in addition to the extended extirpation a secondary degen- 
eration of the left occi])ital region took place, leaving as a result 
scarcely more than one-fourth of the two hemispheres intact. 
The dog lived two and a half months after the last operation. 
It did not take food voluntarily, but when food was given it all 
the mechanical processes of chewing and swallowing were exe- 
cuted. The so-called "emotional sounds" — barking, whining, 
growling, etc. — were evoked in their normal relations, respectively. 
In the case of a third dog, which had undergone a complete re- 
moval of both hemispheres, we find the animal required to befed, 
but would properly masticate and swallow if the food were placed 
well back hi its mouth. It could move spontaneously, would 
stand upon its hind legs, and walk in a fairly normal manner. It 
preserved only a remnant of vision, and as far as could be learned, 
had no sensations of hearing, taste, or smell. A rabbit is less 
disturbed by the loss of its hemispheres than the dog, a peculiar 
characteristic being that it retains the sense of hearing. Birds, 
reptiles, and frogs are each in turn still less disturbed by the re- 
moval of the cerebral hemispheres. When the hemispheres of the 
shark are removed the animal can no longer feed; it can see, but 
this is of no value to it, since it depends entirely upon its sense of 
smell. An observation of Steiner is in this connection exceedingly 
interesting. "If the cerebrum of a shark be cut out unsymmet- 
rically, forced movements occur, the animal swims in a circle. If 
a shark be beheaded, its trunk swims in a straight line." 

When we compare the brain in the various vertebrates, we find 
that man's brain is distinguished by a special development of the 



94 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

frontal lobes; in the monkey's brain, a special development of 
the occipital lobes is to be noticed ; while that of the fox is char- 
acterized by a striking development of the parietal lobes. 

There is still one other important modification in the arrange- 
ment of the different parts of the brain in the vertebrate series. 
This is the change from the horizontal arrangement, where (e. g., 
sheep) the cerebellum, pons and medulla lie in one plane with the 
elongated cerebrum, to the erect position which brings the me- 
dulla directly underneath the hemispheres, and places the cerebel- 
lum immediately under the occipital lobes. This modification 
will seem the more significant when it is remembered that the ele- 
vation of the head causes an animal to rely more on its eyes and 
less upon its nose. " The animal of scent becomes an animal of 
vision. The jaws recede, and the different parts of the brain are 
piled upon one another so as to shape the hemispheres into a 
dome-like cupola." 



LESSON VIII. 

SENSATION. 

In a previous chapter it was stated that the nervous system 
falls into three main divisions, (a) the fibers which carry the 
currents in; (b) the central organs — especially the brain; (c) 
the fibers which carry the currents out. You have also seen that 
we have sensation, reflection (in the widest meaning of the term), 
and motion corresponding to these three anatomical and func- 
tional divisions. Sense-perception, as you know, is the power by 
which we gain knowledge of material things. Were it not for the 
impressions objects make upon our senses, we would never know 
objects. A pure or simple sensation is never ours to experience. 
Such a thing as a pure, single sensation is abstraction — a fiction. 
Our experiences are always made up of groups of sensations. One 
cannot see the j^ellowness of the orange apart from its other 
qualities — its roundness, smoothness, size, and weight. Every 
adult experience is made up of many sensations and not of sin- 
gle, simple, isolated sense-impressions. 

A sensation can scarcely be defined since it is itself so elemen- 
tary. We can, however, indicate its meaning by saying that a 
sensation is a simple mental state resulting from any stimula- 
tion being transmitted to the brain centers. This stimulation can 
occur in three different ways : First, by reason of some sort of 
mechanical jarring of the brain itself, as when a boy in his first 
attempt at skating strikes the back of his head on the ice and as 
a result "sees stars;" second, the brain centers are stimulated 
by means of changes in the quantity and quality of the blood 
supply— for example, the sensation of faintness when the blood 
rushes to the head or the "roaring in the ears" after a heavy 
dose of quinine; third, and by far the most common, the brain 
centers are aroused or stimulated by means of the nerve current 

(95) 



9(5 PRACTICAL LESSONS L\ PSYCHOLOGY. 

produced by the excitation of an end-organ at the outer extremity 
of 8ome incarrying or afferent nerve, being transmitted to tiie 
brain— for example, the sensation produced by touching a point 
on the skin with a hot iron, or that caused by the ringing of a 
bell, or the blast of a whistle. 

The mechanical jars that may happen to the brain mass itself 
are exceedingly infrequent and like the sensations produced by 
the changes in the quality and quantity of the blood supply, are 
very transitory. The nerve currents, however, do play a most 
important part in our psychic life. All our knowledge of the out- 
side world comes to the mind via, the end organs of sense, afferent 
nerves and brain renters. We could never know the least iota 
with reference to objects about us w^ere it not for the fact that in 
some way these objects do act upon our senses. The person 
born blind can have no idea at all of color, the one born deaf can 
have no idea of sound. Imagine how limited your experience 
would be, if you were simply both color blind and incapable of 
discriminating pitch and tone among the various sounds. What 
a cold, gray, monotonous world it would be if we had no appre- 
ciation of colors or musical tones! Yet such a limitation is as 
nothing when compared with absolute insensibility to light and 
sound. In the asylums and schools for the blind and deaf the 
pupils are taught as much about light and sound, respectively, as 
is the normal child in the average grammar or high school. But 
the best-taught blind pupil, with all his knowledge about the 
laws of reflection and refraction, the length and intensity of the 
"light waves" is infinitely far behind the infant that can see. 
The baby that extends its chubby hand to grasp the red ball or 
the sickly yellow "jumping jack" is far in advance of the best 
educated blind person who may be ever so well informed with 
reference to the Young-Helmholtzian theory of colors. 

All education must begin with the education of the senses. 
Not any single sense, but all of them must be developed if you 
would have an evenly developed pupil as the result of your in- 
struction. All experience is interpreted and all instruction given 
on the basis of ^^sensation-knowledge.'^ You must appeal to 



SENSATION. 97 

something the child has already seen, smelled, beard, tasted, or 
handled, if you wish to convey to him the knowledge of any new 
object. To define a new color such as " His Eminence" or " Ele- 
phant's Breath," you must appeal to color sensations already 
experienced. In fact, the " new shades " of the fashion books are 
sirapl}' new names given to old-time colors. You cannot describe 
the zebra to a child without referring to some animal he has al- 
ready seen— for example, the horse. We interpret all our experi- 
ences in light of our previous sensations. The fictitious Indian 
who is said to have lassoed the first locomotive he had ever seen 
as it steamed across the plains, and did so under the impression 
that it was a gigantic buffalo, evidently interpreted the present 
sensation by means of previously experienced sensations. The 
locomotive appeared more like a buffalo than anj'thing else he 
had ever seen. The little three-year-old child, Gretchen, who, on 
seeing the deer in the park contentedly lying in the shade of the 
trees, noticing them more especially in the act of chewing tlieir 
cud, and asked, "What in the world do deers chew gum for?" 
evidently' interpreted what she saw in light of her own experiences 
with "tutti-frutti." This same child, until two years old, had 
been accustomed to sleep with a light burning in the bedcham- 
ber. Thoughtlessly, the light was extinguished one night, after 
she had gone to' sleep, without anything having been said to her 
about it. In the night she awakened, and in a frightened way ex- 
citedly called out "Oh, Papa, I've lost my eyes! My eyes are 
gone! Oh, do help me find my eyes ! " You see the sensation of 
darkness she experienced could be interpreted only in light of her 
previous sensations. Before, when she awakened in the night and 
made an effort to see she was abundant!}' rewarded with success. 
This time she made the same effort but could not see, therefore, 
she concluded that her eyes were gone, since the sense of effort as 
clearly experienced now as before, was connected with no result- 
ing sensation of vision. She could not be persuaded that her 
eyes were intact until the lamp was again lighted and the whole 
matter explained to her, notwithstanding the unseasonableness 
of the hour, at least so far as psychological explanations are 

L. P.-7 



98 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

concerned. Another little girl who said she " hugged dolly tight 
so the cats wouldn't frighten her with their horrid noises " surely 
remembered something of her own sensations of fright. The boy 
who bats the ball and tells by the "feel of the bat " whether it is 
a fair hit or a foul, bases his judgment on muscular sensations 
previously experienced . 

There is no gainsaying the fact that all education naturally 
begins with the education of the senses. Of course the child, on 
entering school is one-sided in his development. For example, 
his eye may have been developed at the expense of his ear. The 
child reared in the tenement house could possibly have no such 
eye development as the child of the same age who has had the 
advantages of roaming over the hills, along the brooks and 
through the woods of the country. If, in our educatioual meth- 
ods, we would, as teachers, pay especial and almost exclusive 
attention to the proper development of the senses, we would find 
that the motor impulses and resulting movements would take 
care of themselves, developing right in line with the correspond- 
ing sense development. If the infant experiences no sensations it 
will never move. The child is right-eyed before it is right-handed. 
Sensory paralysis will always cause motor paralysis. Educate 
the senses and the coordinate movements educate themselves. 

One other point— even if it be a diversion, it is an observation 
that should be given at least a passing thought— we all admit 
that it is worse than a waste of time to read an effusive poem on 
"The Sunset" to a person always blind; and yet oftentimes in 
our teaching we do what is worse— we use words that convey no 
definite meaning to the would-be learner because they are not 
founded on any sensory experience. Children in entirely new ex- 
periences frequently base their judgment on previous experiences 
even if they have been gained through some other avenue of sense. 
The child sees an article of food which it has never seen before. It 
knows nothing of the taste and judges whether it will like it en- 
tirely on the basis of whether it is pleasing to the eye or not— its 
judgment being visual judgment rather than a taste judgment. 
To some children a given dish, such as fruit or berries, will not 



SENSATION. 99 

taste sweet unless the sugar can be seen. The gaily colored 
striped candy of the corner grocer^^ is more the object of the 
child's fancy than plainer, more healthful confections would be, 
for it appeals to his child-eye as well as palate. Whatever at- 
tractions the red lemonade of the traveling circus has for the 
average urchin must be based on visual rather than gustatory 
sensations. A little boy who had never lienrd the croak of a frog- 
described the sound as "That little round noise." 

The brain processes with which sensations are always con 
nected, are produced, then, by nerve currents, coming from the 
periphery of the body. As already stated, some external object 
must excite some one of the various end organs of sense before 
the sensation can possibly arise in consciousness. 

You see, then, that four antecedents must precede each and every 
sensation : 

First. An exciting cause— the stimulus producing changes in end 
organs of the sensory nerves. 

Second. The action of this cause upon the nerves by means of 
the end organs. The "ether waves" that never reach the optic 
nerve, produce no visual sensations. 

Third. Some sort of transmission to the brain centers bj- means 
of the nerve fibers. 

Fourth. Activity of some sort within the brain center itself. 

In order to have light from the incandescent electric lamp one 
must turn with his finger the switch or key, in order to allow the 
current to pass to the platinum wire within the vacuum globe of 
the lamp. If this could be accomplished in some other way the 
result would be the same — a light of so and so much candle power. 
So the function of the nerves is really to bring about changes in 
thebrain center. If these brain centers can be incited into activity 
by any other means (a mechanical jar or changes in the quantity 
and quality of the blood supply) you have the sensation existing 
just as truly as if the impulse had originated at some outer end 
organ and been conveyed by some nerve to the brain. 

It must be remembered that the nerves as nerves do not differ from 
each other. The nerv« whose activity gives rise to a sensation of 



100 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

sound, is, as a nerve, not one whit different from the nerve that 
brings to us the sensation of smell. The specific differences in the 
various sensations are not due to any difference in the several 
nerves conveying the impressions, but due rather to differences in 
the end organs of sense. That the optic nerve conveys visual, 
and the ear auditory impressions, is due to the fact that the eye 
is different from the ear rather than that the optic nerve is in any 
way different from the auditory nerve. On the other hand, " If," 
as Professor James says, "we could splice the outer extremity 
of our optic nerves to our ears, and that of our auditory nerves 
to our eyes, we should hear the lightning and see the thunder, see 
the symphony and hear the conductor's movements." 

Sensations are, as has already been said, the immediate results 
of nervous excitations entering the brain. Were there no such 
impressions, no such neural excitations, there would never beany 
brain activity— it would be plunged in deep sleep and midnight 
darkness, and consciousness could never arise. That we have 
different kinds of sensations is due to the different kinds of end 
organs of sense. We shall now discuss the various sorts of sen- 
sations which we experience in common, beginning with the sen- 
sations of 

TASTE. 

The end organs of taste consist of the so-called "gustatory 
bulbs," or, as some designate them, the "gustatory knobs" or 
' ' gustatory flasks." The latter term is probably the most suita- 
ble name, since it best indicates the shape of these minute end- 
organs of the taste sense. These little flasks are scattered some- 
what irregularly over the tongue, palate and epiglottis, but are 
most thickly clustered in the little papillae, or ridges found on 
the surface of the tongue. Without these little gustatory flasks 
no sensations of taste are possible, no matter if every nerve lead- 
ing from the tongue and inner surface of the mouth is in a nor- 
mal condition. These bulbs or flasks are so constructed that 
only fluids can be tasted. Solids and gases must first be reduced 
to a liquid state before sensations of taste can possibly be ex- 
perienced. Only four qualities of taste can be designated with 



SENSATION. 101 

thoroughgoing certainty. They are — sweet, sour, bitter, and 
salt. Some of you may be quick to add a multitude of tastes 
which we distinguish in our food— e. g., the taste of a banana, 
pear, onion, peach, and potato. But in such cases what we 
designate as taste is not taste at all. It is really smell. It is 
not the sensation of taste that makes the strawberry such an 
edible fruit but really a sensation of smell. The intimate connec- 
tion of taste with smell is seen in cases where the impairment of 
the sense of smell by disease or a bad cold destroys or seriously 
modifies the ability to taste. Some foods in being masticated 
or swallowed are vaporized in the back part of the mouth and 
thence reach the cavity of the nose where this vapor product is 
smelled. The sense of taste pure and simple, does not admit of 
many varieties. It is extraordinarily limited in this respect. 
To take an example, the numberless acids of chemistry all arouse 
but one sensation of taste — sour — which varies only in intensity. 
A solution of quinine in the proportion of 1:100,000 cannot be 
distinguished from a solution of morphine in the proportion of 
1:3,000. The bitterness of the quinine solution is like the bitter- 
ness of the morphine solution. 

That much of what is ordinarily called taste is really taste 
plus smell or touch or both can be substantiated by a very sim- 
ple experiment. With the eyes closed or blindfolded, and the 
nostrils held so as to cut off sensations of smell you will find it 
absolutely impossible to distinguish, by taste alone, the differ- 
ence between small quantities of scraped apple and scraped 
potato when placed on the tongue. 

The minute flask-like organs that perceive the various tastes 
are in a measure grouped together; those that perceive bitter 
by themselves, those that perceive sour in another locality by 
themselves. For example, the sensations of bitter generally, if 
not always, come from the root of the tongue, while sweet and 
sour are tasted with the tip of the tongue and the salt at the 
side edges. Nearly all substances, even sugar, will evoke a bit- 
ter taste when applied solely to the root of the tongue. 

It has been found that sensations of the taste may be aroused 



102 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSTCHOLOOY. 

by electrical etimulation at different portions of the tongue and 
palate as well as at the epiglottis. If you use a constant current 
iand two electrodes — one above and the other under the tongue — 
you will observe a sour taste at the positive pole of the current 
and an alkaline-like taste at the negative pole. 

The sensitiveness of the organs of taste are much more acute 
than we are apt to think. The work done a few years ago by 
Bailey and Nichols in experimenting with reference to the mini- 
mal tastes that can be perceived, is well known and very interest- 
ing in this connection. These two investigators made the observa- 
tions upon 128 persons, whose ages ranged from twelve to fifty 
years. Of this number 82 were men and 46 women. Bitter, sweet, 
acid, alkaline and saline were regarded by them as the funda- 
mental and representative tastes, and solutions of substances 
were used in order to test the discriminative ability of the taste- 
organs— or, rather, to test the organs with reference to minimal 
tastes. The substances selected were as follows : 

1. Bitter— Quinine bisulphate. 

2. Sweet — Cane sugar. 

3. Acid — Sulphuric acid. 

4. Alkaline — Sodium bicarbonate. 

5. Saline — Common salt. 

The results obtained were these : 

I. Quinine. 

Men detect one part in 390,000 parts of water. 
Women detect one part in 4.')6,000 parts of water. 

II. Cane Sugar. 

Men detect one part in 199 parts of water. 
Women detect one part in 204 parts of water. 

III. Sulphuric Acid. 

Men detect one part in 2,080 parts of water. 
Women detect one part in 3,280 parts of water. 

IV. Bicarbonate of Soda. 

Men detect one part in 98 parts of water. 
Women detect one part in 126 parts of water. 



SENSATION. 108 

V. Common Salt. 

Men detect one part in 2,240 parts of water. 
Women detect one part in 1,980 parts of water. 

It is seen from the above that as a rule the sense of taste is 
more finely developed in women than in men. The exception to 
this rule is the case of common salt. While this is the rule with 
respect to the sense of taste, Maggiori and Mosso have found 
that in general the senses are more acute and delicate in men 
than in women. 

Of course, you cannot compare extreme sensibility for one sort 
of taste with that for another taste. From the table given you 
you might be inclined to argue that the sense organs of taste are 
better developed for bitter than for sweet ; but you can hardly 
do this because you cannot say the quinine is as bitter as the 
sugar is sweet, or the lemon is as sour as a particular substance 
is salt, any more than you can say that the rose is as red as the 
buttercup is yellow, or that the sky is as blue as a noise is loud. 

Sensations of taste may be greatly modified or even obliterated 
when the temperature of the end organ of taste is extremely warm 
or cold. Fill the jnouth with hot water, hold it for a moment, 
then expel it. Immediately after, place a little salt or sugar on 
the tongue and you will find that the usual sensations of taste 
are not experienced. If you take a small piece of ice into the 
mouth and hold it near the root of the tongue you will find that 
quinine, if placed in the same locality, will give rise to no sensa- 
tion of bitter as is ordinarily the case. 

SMELL. 

The sense of smell is possessed even by some of the lower ani- 
mal forms. A blinded starfish can scent a crab (its chosen article 
of diet) at quite a considerable distance. The shark is entirely 
dependent upon the sense of smell. Destroy this sense and the 
shark will refuse to eat though he can see ever so well. The feel- 
ers of many insects are in reality organs of smell. Certain organs 
of smell exist in the outer extremities of the antennules of crabs. 

In all vertebrates the end organs of smell are found in the regio 



104 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

olfactorici of the nose, which consists of a mucous membrane cov- 
ered with a layer of cells, and these cells give off certain hair-like 
processes. The smell apparatus is a very simple contrivance. 
All that is necessary is that a current of air, in which stimulating 
particles float, be drawn through the nose over the mucous mem- 
brane of the regio olfactorm. The strongest substances, such as 
ammonia and camphor, even when placed directly under the 
nostrils, have no smell as long as the breath is held, or inhaled 
through the mouth instead of the nose. We seldom smell in ex- 
haling, because in expiration the air does not pass so directly 
over the olfactory regions as in inspiration. The end organs of 
sense and smell are very easily fatigued. If you hold a piece of 
camphor gum to the nose and smell of it continuously, inhaling 
through the nose and exhaling through the mouth, you find 
after a few minutes that a very marked decrease in the intensity 
of the sensation will be noticed extending even to entire loss of 
the ability to perceive the odor for the time being. It must be 
added that fatigue for one substance does not necessarily involve 
fatigue for all others. Smell of some essence of cloves, then of 
some ordinary yellow beeswax, and then fatigue for camphor as 
above. If you then smell of the wax and essence of cloves again, 
you will in all probability find that the odor of these two sub- 
stances is unaffected. 

Smells do not really admit of classification. The classification 
sometimes made use of — namely, pleasant and unpleasant smells 
— has no real basis, for it depends entirely upon individual pecul- 
iarities; as Professor Ladd remarks, "to some the smell of burn- 
ing feathers, of assafoetida, of valerian or of rank cheese is pleas- 
ant." Speaking of the possibility of classifying smells Dr. Por- 
ter tells us that — " Their varieties are almost endless. The odors 
from flowers, from food, from perfumes, from woods, from earths, 
from metals and from many other objects, are too numerous to 
be classed or named except in a very general way. We class 
them in a few general and obvious groups, as quickening, refresh- 
ing, depressing, sickening, aromatic, spicy, etc., etc. We name 
them usually from the objects which excite them, as the odor of 



SENSATION. 105 

the violet and the lilac, of the rose and the tuberose, of the peach 
and the apple, of cedar and camphor-wood." 

The minimum stimulus for the end organs of smell is very 
small for a large number of substances. For example, y^tttrftt^ 
part of a milligram of an alcoholic solution of musk is perceptible, 
likewise -^-^-^-^^^-^-^-^ of a milligram of mercaptan is sufficient to 
produce a sensation of smell. 

In paralytics both the senses of smell and of taste are usually 
disturbed. Kornfeld and Bikeles have made a large number of 
experiments in this line, and find that with reference to the sense of 
smell, it was noticed that certain paralytics could not recognize 
the odor of onions, caraway -seed , or vinegar. One patient mis- 
took the odor of an onion for that of a lemon; and the same 
patient could not recognize the odor of garlic; while another 
called the odor of vinegar that of ordinary whisky. 

The sensations of taste in these paralytics were experimented 
upon chiefly by means of standard solutions. The following were 
some of the results : At the tip and sides of the tongue the pa- 
tients appear in general to have no correct sense of taste. For 
example, the patient would designate a 4-per cent, solution of 
salt as sour. " Salty" and " sour" could not be distinguished 
from each other, for the salt solution above referred to was fre- 
quently designated as sour, and a citric-acid solution as salty. 
Even quinine bisulphate was regarded as sweet, sour, or salty 
interchangeably. At the root of the tongue the following results 
were obtained. A 4-per cent, solution of sugar was perceived as 
tasteless, while an 8-per cent, salt solution was designated sour. 
In experiments with this latter solution, if the patient were per- 
mitted to roll his tongue and draw it back, he would then some- 
times designate the taste as slightly salty; others would say that 
the 2-per cent, solution of citric acid tasted the same as the 8- 
per cent, solution of salt; still another characterized as bitter 
this same citric-acid solution. 

When applied to the gums, sour and salty substances were 
most frequently regarded as bitter; while an 8-per cent, solution 
of quinine, on the other hand, was not perceived as bitter, but 



106 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

rather as acid and astringent. When permitted to swallow 
this strong solution, they would experience a slightly bitter 
taste. 

Much more important to the Psychologist than the sensation 
of smell or taste are the various sensations of feeling in the skin. 
The dermal senses comprise the temperature sense, the pressure 
sense, the tickle sense and the tactile sense proper. It must be 
remembered in this connection that sensibility of the skin is the 
first sense that appears, and the one from which all others have 
probably been developed by gradual steps and stages in the pro- 
cess of evolution. The eye, ear, regio olfactoria, etc., may be 
regarded as highly differentiated portions of the skin. The sense 
of sight is at first a generalized property, many Protozoa show- 
ing themselves sensitive to light. In the Hydroids, even in the 
fresh-water species, we have a good example in that many single 
cells with direct muscle connections are found scattered all over 
the dermal surface, and are sensitive to light. 



LESSON IX. 

SENSATION (continued). 
THE TEMPERATURE SENSE. 

It is an important fart to remember that the nerves are not 
different from each other. The sensory nerves as nerves are 
anatomically, structurally and functionally alike. But some 
nerves convey to the brain only sensations of heat, others only 
sensations of cold, while others carry to the brain only sensations 
of touch or simple contact. These differences are not due to dif- 
ferences in the nerves themselves, but are due to specific differences 
in the end organs with which they are connected. Magnus Blix 
has shown that upon some one spot of the skin only cold may be 
perceived, upon another only heat, and upon a third spot only 
sensations of touch or simple contact. This is due to the fact 
that the different sorts of terminal organs are found in different 
localities on the skin. One locality may abound in heat spots 
while another portion may abound in cold spots, as the back of 
the neck. We have, therefore, as end organs of sense in the skin 
itself, the "heat spots," ''cold spots," "pressure spots" and 
' ' tactile corpuscles. ' ' Stimulate any one of these end organs and 
you evoke a corresponding sensation. You cannot get the sensa- 
tion of heat by stimulating a cold spot any more than you can 
get a sensation of sound by stimulating the eye with light. We 
can easily convince ourselves of this important fact by applying 
the cold point of a lead pencil, or better, the point of a steel rod 
here and there on the forearm. After a little such exploration 
you will find a locality at which no sensation of cold will be re- 
ceived from the cold point, although a sensation of heat will ap- 
pear if only the proper stimulus be applied. Close beside this 
spot you will find other localities that are acutely sensitive to 
cold, though no sensations to warmth or touch can there be per- 

(107) 



108 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

ceived. You conclude, therefore, and rightly, too, that there are 
separate spots for perceiving heat, cold and touch, and each nerve 
fiber leading from these particular spots can transmit but one 
kind of sensation. The skin can be pretty well mapped out with 
reference to these end organs of sense, especially with reference to 
the heat and cold spots. 

These two kinds of temperature spots respond with their charac- 
teristic sensations, to both mechanical and electrical stimulation. 
If you select a well located cold spot, for example, on the back of 
the hand or the volar side of the index finger, and allow another 
person to tap it with an ordinary wooden toothpick, you will 
find that a distinct sensation of cold arises. It is also a singular 
fact that these temperature spots give no pain when punctured, 
as may be substantiated by thrusting a needle into a well-located 
cold spot. 

These temperature end organs respond also to chemical stimula- 
tion. Take the temperature of the skin on the back of the hand 
by allowing a thermometer to remain in contact with it for some 
little time. Write down the temperature for the purpose of com- 
parison later. Then take a menthol pencil (such as is used to 
relieve the headache and which can be purchased at any drug 
store) and rub the skin with it. You experience marked sensa- 
tions of cold, because the menthol has chemically stimulated 
the cold spots, but yon find if you again take the tempera- 
ture of the skin with the thermometer it is actually higher not- 
withstanding the contrary sensation of cold which you so dis- 
tinctly feel. 

Furthermore, the intensity of the temperature sensation de- 
pends upon the amount of dermal surface that is stimulated. 
If, for example, you dip a single finger in cold water and immedi- 
ately afterwards the whole hand, you will observe a marked 
increase in the intensity of the sensation of cold. 

The feeling of temperature is relative to the state of the skin. 
In a comfortable room at no part of the body do you feel heat or 
cold, although, as physiologists tell us, the different parts of the 
bodily surface are at different temperatures. Thus the fingers and 



SENSATION. 109 

nose are cooler than the trunk of the body, and the trunk cooler 
than the interior of the mouth cavity. That degree of tempera- 
ture at which a given locality has the sensation of neither heat 
nor cold is called the zpro-7:)oinf for that locality. This zero-point is 
not only different at different parts of the body, but is also a vari- 
able with reference to the same part from time to time. On passing 
from a room of a given temperature into one whose temperature 
is higher or lower we experience at fii-st sensations of warmth or 
cold while our "zero-point" is becoming adjusted to the new 
environment. Of course the determination of the exact zero- 
point of different parts of the body is an exceedinglj^ difficult 
affair, being purely a relative and not an absolute quantity. It 
has been shown that if the hand be held for a minute in the water 
of the temperature of 54° and then in water 64° (Fahrenheit), a 
sensation of heat will be felt for a few seconds, although the lat- 
ter would have felt cold to the hand if placed in it at first. Yon 
have noticed perhaps, when indulging in fruit ices or ice cream 
that cold drinks such as ice water and lemonade taste warm be- 
cause the zero-point of the mouth is for the time being very low. 
No matter what the zero-point may happen to be, it is always 
found that the skin is most sensitive to such changes of tem- 
perature as lie near its own zero-point. 

SENSATIONS OF PRESSURE AND SENSATIONS OF CONTACT 

must, from the nature of the case, be treated together. 

Just as there are heat and cold spots distributed over the 
skin, so we find that certain nerves terminate in what are called 
pressure points or pressure spots, meaning those points at which 
a clear feeling of contact will be perceived Avhen appropriately 
stimulated. Through these little corpuscles we recognize pres- 
sure, and the resistance of bodies as well as the softness or hard- 
ness, the roughness or smoothness of the object causing the sen- 
sation. We find that the delicacy of the sense of touch varies at 
different portions of the skin. It is the greatest on the forehead, 
temples, back of the forearm, and eyelids, where an exceedingly 
small weight can be distinctly' perceived . 



110 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

The size of the object, or better, the amount of dermal surface 
stimulated, plays an important part in our judgment of pressure 
on the skin. If two bodies of equal weight and unequal size 
be placed at some convenient locality on the skin, for example, 
the palm, one after the otlier, it will be found that the smaller of 
the two will seem decidedly the heavier. 

Our sensations of pressure are greatly modified by the tem- 
perature of the object used as a stimulus. Cold or hot bodies 
feel heavier than bodies of equal weight at a normal temperature. 
If, for example, you take two silver dollars, warming one until 
it has gained the same temperature as the zero-point of the skin, 
and therefore ceases to seem cold, then cool the other to about 
12° centigrade, and apply these one after the other to the palm 
of the hand, you will find that the cold one will seem much heav- 
ier, even as heavy as two at the normal temperature. If you 
take two small wooden cylinders about one inch in diameter and 
one and one-half inches long, and heat one (keeping it dry) till 
it is quite hot, the other remaining at the normal temperature, 
it will be found that the hot one will seem the heaviei* when the 
two are placed alternately (standing on end) on the back of the 
hand. 

When pressure is evenly distributed over a considerable area of 
the skin, it is found that it is less strongly felt than pressure upon 
a small area which is bordered by one that is not pressed. When 
the hand is immersed, for example, in water, or better, mercury, 
you will notice that the sensation of pressure is strongest in the 
ring about the wrists, that is, it is felt only at a line along the 
surface of the liquid where the immersed and non-immersed por- 
tions of the skin meet. This ring effect is more pronounced when 
the hand is moved up and down in the liquid. 

The fineness of the pressure sense is very remarkable. Scarcely 
any other sense will educate so rapidly and to such a degree of 
acuteness. You may judge something of its powers in this direc- 
tion by observing that the slightest unevennessof surface may be 
detected by the sense of touch alone. Suppose you try this sim- 
ple experiment : Place a hair on a plate of glass or an ordinary 



SENSATION. Ill 

dinner plate, or any hard, smooth surface, and over it lay ten, 
twelve, or fifteen sheets of writing- paper. The position of thehair 
on the plate can be easily detected by passing your finger tips 
back and forth over the surface of the upper sheet of paper. 

When the eyes are closed and a point on the skin is stimulated 
we can pretty well indicate the locality which has been touched, 
yet by no means exactly the same place. Have a friend close 
his eyes, touch him on the forearm with a pencil-point and require 
him to touch the same place with another pencil-point immediately 
after. You will find that he will make an error which you can meas- 
ure with an ordinary graduated ruler, and you will also observe 
that the errors are generally constant in following a given direc- 
tion . The accuracy of the localizing power varies widely at differ- 
ent localities on the skin. You can test the localizing power within 
a given locality by using ordinary compasses or dividers, the 
points of which are blunted or tipped with small bits of cork to 
avoid the sharpness and coldness of the metal. Find the least 
distance apart at which the two points of the dividers can be rec- 
ognized as two when applied to the skin. The average that must 
intervene between the two points in order that they may be felt 
as two is as follows -for various localities, the experiments having 
been made several years ago by Weber : 

Tip of tongue 04 inch 

Palm side of the last phalanx of the finger 08 inch 

Red part of lips 16 inch 

Tip of nose 25 inch 

Palm side of the second phalanx of finger 28 inch 

White of lips 36 inch 

Cheek 44 inch 

Heel 88 inch 

Forehead 92 inch 

Back of hand 1.23 inch 

Knee-pan 1.44 inch 

Forearm and lower ]pg 1.58 inch 

Nape of neck 2.11 inch 

Middle of back, upper arm and thigh 2.75 inch 

When several touches occur simultaneously, it is found that 
there is still more confusion in locating the stimulations of the 



112 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

sense of touch. It might be interesting in this connection to sum 
up the results of about twenty-five hundred experiments, which I 
recently made on the fifteen different persons at different times.* 
The endeavor of this study was (1) to discover the relative sen- 
sitiveness of different portions of the skin; (2) to find the nature 
and direction of the errors in localization; (3) to study the influ- 
ence of attpution upon the localization and interpretation of sen- 
sationswhen they occur simultaneously; (4) to examine the effect 
of practice. Can the skin be educated to greater sensitiveness 
and accuracy in localization? 

There is not sufficient space to describe in detail the method of 
experiment and apparatus employed. Many interesting results 
were gained, among which the following are the most important. 

First. Indubitable evidence as to the relative sensitiveness of 
the skin. 

(a) Skin over the joints is much more sensitive than that of 
other localities on the dermal area. Touches on the joints are 
always more correctly localized than any other. 

(b) Touches on the back of the body are more distinctly felt, 
more clearly located, and therefore better localized than those on 
the front part of the body. 

(c) Localization of these touch sensations is better for points 
not on the median line than for those that are. When touches 
occur on the median line of the body but 34 per cent, are cor- 
rectly localized, while at other localities 68 per cent, are accu- 
rately located. 

(d) On the left side of the body we do not localize touches so 
correctly as on the right side, that is if we are right-handed. 

(e) On hairy portions of the skin the localization is better 
than on those portions not covered with hair. This is especially 
noticed when the hairs have been shaven, as in one instance the 
skin over the thighs and calves (after the shaving of the hairs) 
was so sensitive as to vitiate the experiment, because the sensa- 
tions received at these localities were so intense and pronounced 

♦These experiments are described in detail in the Journal of Sercoui- aud Men- 
tal Disease, New York, March, 1893. 



SENSATION. lis 

as to cause the mind to lose track of the sensations at the other 
stimulated portions of the skin. 

(f) The parts usually covered with clothing do not localize so 
well as those not usually so covered . 

Second. The nature and direction of errors in localizing touches. 
Out of every 100 errors in localizing touches in these experiments 
42 per cent, were errors of extension ; that is, errors in which the 
touch was located at a point nearer the extremities of the limbs 
than where the touch actually occurred. To illustrate, a person 
is touched on the forearm just below the elbow; if he make a 
mistake at all he will locate the touch lower down on the arm 
near the wrist, rather than at some point above the place ac- 
tually touched. The average amount of such " extension " errors 
was 4.3(i inches. 

Third. Attention plays a most important part in the locali- 
zation of these touch stimulations. 

Fourth. The effect of practice is vfry marked. 

Fifth. Fusion of stimulations into one touch sensation. Two 
or more touches are often fused into one single sensation, and 
this one sensation localized at a point quite removed from either 
of those at which the stimulations were actiially received. For 
example, two touches, one at the top of the right shoulder and 
the other at the tip of the right shoulder blade were quickly fused 
into one sensation, localized as coming from a single point mid- 
way between the two places actually touched. 

Sixth. Diffusion. There were also results diametrically opposed 
to the case of fusion just cited. Thus one subject, being touched 
by a single cork at a point directly under the armpit, indicated 
that he had been touched at tno localities about four inches 
apart, when there was really but one point touched. 

A general rule might be laid down; it is this: The localizing 
power is delicate inproportion asthe skin covers a more movable 
part of the body, andis also more acute when thepressure stimu- 
lation is just strong enough to cause an appreciable sensation 
than when it is more powerfully impressed. 

Mr. H., who, in the fall of 1892, was the "coach" of a uuiver- 

L. P.— 8 



114 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

sity foot-ball team, had his left forearm broken in a hotly con- 
tested gamewliile playing with his eleven against that of another 
institution. The surgeon who was called did his work in such a 
bungling manner that after the bones had begun to knit the arm 
had to be broken over again in order to set it properly. To 
keep it in the correct position a plaster cast was made which 
held it firmly. This plaster-of-paris case extended from the 
knuckles to a point above the elbow. After three months the 
case and bandage were removed. Of course during the entire 
period when incased in the plaster, the forearm had not been 
moved either at the wrist or elbow. I then endeavored to test 
the sensibihty of the skin on this arm which had not been moved 
for so long a time. To do this, I applied the points of a pair of 
dividers or compasses which were separated more or less widely 
as mentioned in certain experiments above. The forearm was 
divided into four diff<^rent areas for purposes of more accurate 
comparison with the sensibility of the skin on the unin- 
jured right forearm of the same person. Without going into 
detail, it should be stated that on the left forearm — the one so 
long immovable, when the two points touching the skin at a 
given region were separated by as much as 55 millimeters they 
were felt as one instead of two, while on the right forearm at the 
same place they would only have to be about 20 millimeters 
apart in order to be perceived as two. On the back of the 
"lame" arm at a different locality than that just mentioned, it 
was found that even when the two points of the dividers were 
75 and 80 millimeters apart, they were felt as one, while at a 
corresponding locality on the right arm the skin was so sensi' 
tive that points but 17 millimeters apart would be felt as two- 
It must be also observed that this particular person had alwayw 
previously been, with reference to a large nuniber of activities, 
practically ambidextrous— indeed, he never had to faA'or the left 
arm at all. In his position as gymnasium instructor he could 
(before the accident) manipulate the dumb bells, Indian clubs, 
play base ball, hand ball, and the like with the left hand just as 
well as with the right. It would seem, then, that the sensibility 



SENSATION. 115 

of the skin over the injured forearm was lost simply because that 
member was for so long a time necessarily immovable. This 
has an important bearing on the above-mentioned principle, to 
the effect that "the localizing power is delicate in proportion as 
the skin covers a movable part of the body." 

Again, filled space is as a rule underestimated by the skin. A 
solid line, like the back of a knife-blade, will feel shorter than sev- 
eral points arranged in a similar straight line of the same length 
as the solid line. An interesting experiment for you to perform 
is to take a small wooden rod and stick into it a straight row of 
five pins separated from each other by one-half of an inch. In 
another such a wooden rod set up two pins one and one-half 
inches apart. Apply them to the arm one after the other. You 
will find that the two inches of space occupied by the five pins 
will seem less than the one and one-half inches between the two 
pins. 

We are also subject to great confusion in our judgment of mo- 
tion on the skin. If you select a convenient area on the dermal 
surface — the forearm, for example — and move a pencil-point over 
the skin, you will observe that you can tell that the point is mov- 
ing before you can tell the direction in which it is moving. A 
common and persistent illusion somewhat related to the above 
experiment may be experienced if you touch the forehead with 
the index finger (keeping the finger motionless) and move the 
forehead from side to side; you will find that the motion will be 
attributed to the finger rather than to the forehead. This is an 
irresistible sensation of which one cannot rid himself. Perhaps 
you have already tried the old-time experiment of Aristotle, in 
which you merely cross the middle finger over the index finger in 
such a way as to bring the middle finger on the thumb side of the 
index finger. Inserting between the two a pea, bullet, or other 
small object, you perceive a more or less distinct sensation of two 
objects instead of the one actually present. 

Furthermore, yoii will always find that active touch (touch 
with movement) gives quite a different sensation than mere simple 
contact or passive touch. It is also more discriminative. The 



116 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

carpenter who desires to tell whether the board is planed smoothly 
or not, does not simply lay his hand on the board, but rubs it 
over the surface, the smoothness of which he desires to judge. 
Likewise as to the grinder of lenses for optical instruments. Com- 
pare for yourself the sensation received from merely resting the 
tip of the finger on the rough surface of a piece of sandpaper, or 
even a rough book cover, with the sensation you receive when 
you move the finger over such a surface. The bank teller cannot 
tell a counterfeit five-dollar bill or the spurious lead coin by 
simply touching it passively. He rubs it between his fingers, or 
rubs his fingers over it. The merchant in buying cloth depends 
largely upon the "feel of it," as he rubs it between his thumb and 
finger to determine the quality of its texture. You probably do 
the same thing in comparing several varieties of writing paper 
as to their smoothness and thickness. 

Sergi, the Italian Psychologist, and others have made some 
extended experiments with reference to ascertaining theacuteness 
of his skin's power in making time discriminations when a num- 
ber of stimulations follow in close succession. In other words, 
his attempt was an endeavor to find how much of an interval 
there must be between successive touch stimulations to prevent 
their being fused into one continuous sensation. As apparatus 
he used six tuning forks, each of which could be set into vibra- 
tion electrically, and which were, respectively, capable of 30, 100, 
250,435,500 and 1,000 vibrations per second. Various locations 
on the skin are then brought into direct contact with each of these 
forks after they are set into vibration. After a large number of 
careful tests, Sergi finds that different portions of the dermal 
surface are by no means equally capable of perceiving successive 
stimulations and of making time discriminations. He did find 
tjome localities exceedingly sensitive — e. g., the tips of the fingers 
where the beats of the fork do not blend into a continuous sen- 
sation of touch, even when the vibrations are 1,000 or more a 
second. 



LESSON X. 

SENSATION (continued). 
THE MUSCLE SENSE. 

By muscular sensations are meant all those sensations which 
arise from the varying condition of the muscles whether in action 
or at rest ; therefore they depend upon the contraction and re- 
laxation of the muscular fibers or the varying relative position 
of the muscles. When we slowly stretch or violently jerk the arm , 
when we snap the finger, when we rotate the wrist, when we tread 
or kick with the foot, when we strain and tug with the whole 
body to lift a heavy weight or push against a resisting obstacle, 
we experience a corresponding variety of muscle sensations. 

The muscle sense is among the first, if not itself the very first, 
to furnish data by means of which the child becomes able to dis- 
tinguish himself — his body — from the rest of the material uni- 
verse. Through a large variety of movements the infant first 
explores every part of the organism, and as a result derives that 
standard by which he measures the material world without. You 
see, then, by the expression "muscular sensation " is meant those 
feelings of which we are conscious when we voluntarily exercise or 
refrain from exercising our muscles. 

While the real muscular sensations would comprise those of 
pain, effort, fatigue and the like, it should be observed that the 
term ** muscle sense " has come to receive a more restricted, defi- 
nite and special meaning in Psychology, and it is now used to des- 
ignate more particularly that sense by which lifted weights are per- 
ceived. For experiments upon sensations belonging to this class, 
it is necessary to have a series of weights for the purpose of test- 
ing one's discriminative ability with reference to this special 
sense. The most available weights for such purposes are made 
by loading paper gunshells with shot. A convenient series would 

(117) 



118 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

consist of the following weights: 100, 101, 102, 102.2, 102.5, 
103 arid 103.4 grams. Also a carefulh' graduated series of 
smaller weights beginning with a weight of ten grams, and run- 
ning as high as fifteen grams. The experiment should be made 
something as follows: Let the person whose discriminative abil- 
ity for lifted weights you wish to test, stand at a table of conven- 
ient height. He should be blindfolded. Place within easy reach 
of his right hand and near together two weights, one of which 
sliould be the standard weight of 100 grams, and the other a 
weight to be compared with it, either one that is equal, heavier 
or lighter. Let the subject lift them one after the other, being 
careful that he lift them the same way, to the same height and at 
the same rate, giving a decision as to which of the weights he 
thinks is the heavier or the lighter. If he thinks the two of equal 
weight, record this judgment also. The fac^t of the matter is 
that when the two are of equal weight he will be apt to say that 
the second one lifted is the heavier. The difference between the 
two weights must be considerable if it is to be perceived. If we 
should close our eyes and a friend should lay a weight of 300 
grams, then one of 312 grams, on our hand and we are called 
upon to state which of the two is the heavier it would be seen 
that the additional weight of twelve grams more than the orig- 
inal 300 grams is so small that the difference is not constantly 
perceived with thoroughgoing certainty. Fechuer, the first to 
innovate this test, found that in one hundred such trials as the 
one just indicated, in which sometimes the lighter and sometimes 
the heavier weight was first lifted, the correct answer was given 
sixty times. Therefore the number of correct cases amounted to 
60 per cent. 

Now a second series of trials is made, the initial weight being 
600 grams, the additional weight remaining 12 grams for the 
time being. It is then soon found that the number of false esti- 
mates has been greatly augmented, the number of correct cases 
being not more than 40 percent. In order to attain 60 per cent. 
of correct cases, as in the case of 300 grams and 312 grams, we 
have to raise the additional weight to 24 grams if our initial 



SENSATION. 119 

weight remain 600 grams. If the beginning weight is doubled, 
the additional weight must also be doubled in order that the 
probability of a correct discriminative judgment remain con- 
stant. 

Closely allied with the muscular sensations are what is known 
as the orgnnir sensations. When the stomach, lungs, heart and 
other visceral organs are entirely healthy and their functions are 
normally performed, they are attended with no very positive or 
distinct sensations. If, however, they be injured or diseased, 
very clearly recognized disturbing and unpleasant sensations re- 
sult. The hale, hearty, healthy man does not know that he has 
a stomach; the dyspeptic person hardly knows that he hns nny- 
thing else. These organic sensations are often blended with tlie 
muscular, and are experienced in constant connection with nor- 
mal or abnormal muscular sensations. 

But more intimately related to the muscular than are these 
organic sensations are those of the joints and tendons — sensa- 
tions, which are often experienced in the passive motion of the 
various bodily members, especially brought into prominence in 
the flexion of the elbow. The surfaces of the joints are organs 
which become intensely painful when the least bit inflamed. The 
motion of the articulated joints upon each other gives rise to n 
peculiar sensation. To this sensation is due the perception wo 
have of the position of our limbs at a given moment. If these 
joint surfaces are rendered angesthetic the perception of the 
movement, and consequently the position of the limbs, becomes 
exceedingly obtuse. If you place the forearm of a person flat upon 
a hinged board and raise one end of the board so that tlie fore- 
arm is slowly and gradually elevated, and require the person to 
pronounce when he first perceives the motion of his forearm, it 
will be found that the chief data upon which he bases his judg- 
ment is the peculiar sensation of motion which he localizes in 
the elbow joint. At least this is what happens with health}^ 
persons in normal condition. But when the feelings of such pas- 
sive movements as well as other sensations which furnish us a 
clue to the position of our limbs are lacking, we get such results 



120 PRACTICAL LESSONS L\ PSYCHOLOGY. 

as are related by Professor Striinipell of his wonderful aneesthe- 
sic boy, whose onl}- sources of sensation were the right eye and 
left ear. The principal features of the case are thus quoted by 
Professor James : * " Passive movements could be imprinted on 
all the extremities to the greatest extent, without attracting the 
patient's notice. Only in violent forced hyperextension of the 
joints, especially of the knees, there arose a dull vague feeling of 
strain, but this was seldom precise! 3^ locahzed. We have often, 
after bandaging the eyes of the patient, carried him about the 
room, laid him on a table, given to his arms and legs the most 
faiitastic and apparently the most inconvenient attitudes with- 
out his having a suspicion of it. The expression of astonishment 
in his face, when all at once the removal of the handkerchief 
revenled his situation, is indescribable in words. Only when his 
head was made to hang away down he immediately spoke of 
dizziness, but could not assign its ground. Later he sometimes 
inferred from the sounds connected with the manipulation that 
something special was being done with him. . . . He had no 
feelings of muscular fatigue. If, with his eyes shut, we told him 
to raise his arm and keep it up, he did so without trouble. After 
one or two minutes, however, the arm began to tremble and 
sink without his being aware of it. He asserted still his ability to 
keep it up. . . . Passively holding still his fingers did not 
nffect him. He thought constantly that he opened and shut his 
hand, whereas it was really fixed." Goldscheider found that a 
swing of the arm, amounting to .22° to .42°, is sensibly perceived 
in the shoulder joint. Such small displacements as these can hardly 
be detected by the eye. Of course the velocity with which the mem- 
ber is moved plays an important part. The minimum velocity for 
the shoulder joint has been found to be about .3° in a second of 
time. All these facts prove that the joint surfaces constitute the 
chief seat of the impressions by which the movements and posi- 
tion of our bodily members are immediately perceived. 

Mention must also be made of the sensations of resistance. To 



*Wllllam James. Psychology— Briefer Course. New York, 1892. _ The German 
account is not in our possession. 



SENSATION. 



121 



demonstrate what is meant let us take a five-pound weight to 
which is attached a strong piece of ordinary string. With the 
arm extended hold the weight by the string so that it hangs just 
a few inches above the floor. Lower the weight rather rapidly 
until it strikes the floor. Just as it strikes, a sensation of resist- 
ance to further motion is clearly perceived. 

We now come to speak of those sensations by means of which 
we recognize the position of the body as a whole. That there are 




tW. /7. 



such sensations can be very easily verified by a simple experiment. 
The most clear demonstration occurs in connection with the "tilt- 
ing board " shown in the cut. (See Fig. 17.) This consists of a 
board seven feet long and two feet wide balanced over a support 
somewhat resembling a sawhorse. At one end there is a footboard 
secure enough to bear the weight of a man when the tilting board 
is in a vertical position. At the other end should be attached a 
plumb-line and a semicircular scale so adjusted that the inclina- 
tion of the tilting board can be read off at any moment. To pre- 



122 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

vent the person from falling when the head is downward, shoul- 
der and body straps are provided which securely bind him to the 
board. Cause the person who is to serve as subject in this exper- 
iment to place himself on the tilting board and have him close 
his eyes. Begin with the board vertical, his head up. On ques- 
tioning him you will find that he will probably announce that he 
is leaning slightly forward. Tilt him slowly backward and re- 
quire him to announce when he is at an angle of 45° from the 
vertical, when at an angle of 90°, and when at an angle of 180°. 
In most cases the subject will probably say that he is vertical, 
head downward, when he is from 30° to 60° from the designated 
position. 

In this connection reference must be made to the t^ensations of 
rotation. The nature of these sen.sations is also best determined 
by appeal to actual experiment. Some of these experiments can 
be performed by twisting the rope of an ordinary swing in which 
a person is seated. It is better, however, 1o have a board kiid 
across a screw stool or ordinary rotating office chair without a 
back ; seat the person and rotate him rapidly for about half a 
turn, then stop him suddenly, A distinct sensation of rotation 
in the opposite direction will be clearly perceived. This experi- 
ment must be performed with the eyes closed, for if the eyes be 
open, the sensation immediately ceases. Close the eyes again 
and it returns. When a person is turned in one direction and 
then in the other for quite a little period of time and for different 
distances, he will finally lose all knowledge of direction in which 
he is subsequently rotated. These totally wrong judgments with 
reference to the direction of rotation are quite common, and are 
made use of in a number of children's games. The "donkey 
game " is a familiar example. A figure of a donkey minus a tail 
is cut out of colored paper and fastened to a sheet or screen hung 
up on the wall at one end of a room. Each member of the company 
is then required to locate the proper place for the tail standing at 
the opposite end of the room with his eyes open. Then he is 
blindfolded, turned about by another person, first in one direc- 
tion, then in the other, and finally told to pin the detached tail, 



SENSATION. 123 

which has been cut out separately, to the donkey at what he 
thinks is the proper place. Much merriment is caused by the 
striking mistakes with reference to direction and locality. 

It ought also to be mentioned here that deaf and dumb per- 
sons are, as a rule, quite insusceptible of being made dizzy by ro- 
tation. The semicircular canals located in the labyrinth of the 
ear are, as it were, six little spirit levels, which seem calculated 
to be organs of the sense of rotation. 



LESSON XL 

SENSATION (continued) . 
VISION. 

The organ of vision is the eye. It is not necessary in this 
place to give a detailed description of the structure of the eye. 
Such a description can be found in any book on anatoIn3^ It is, 
however, always an interesting observation for one to verify 
Buch descriptions by dissection of the eye of a beef or sheep. For 
such examination the specimen should be first frozen or hardened 
in alcohol. 

The following general points in reference to the eye's structure 
ought, however, be noticed in passing. With the exception of the 
ear, the eye is by far the most complicated end organ of sense. 
The eye is an optical instrument, witli a self-adjusting lens, and 
supporting, on its inner circular wall, a delicate membrane of 
nervous matter which acts as the sensitive plate of the camera 
(for such the eye is) on which the image is formed. On examin- 
ing the eye you find it to be a flattish sphere formed by an outer 
tough membrane which incloses a nervous surface and refracting 
media. The parts of the eye are shown in the schematic draw- 
ing of Gegenbaur (Fig. 18). 

Of the three coats of the eye the inner one (retina) is by far 
the most significant. As stated above, it is the sensitive plate, 
and is a delicate membrane consisting of ten layers. Of these 
layers, the structure of the ninth (counting from the inner sur- 
face) — the layer of the rods and cones — is the most interesting. 
It consists of a multitude of elongated bodies arranged side by 
side in a sort of mosaic. These bodies are of two kinds; one, 
the cylindrical " rods," the others, more flask-shaped, are 
called "cones." The rods are longer than the cones. In the 
adult human eye they are about -^ of an inch in length. It is a 
(124) 



SENSATION. 



125 



peculiar fact that these end organs are not pointed forward to- 
ward the light as it streams through the pupil, but backward 
toward the outer or sclerotic coat. The cones seem to be the 
most sensitive to light. Certain it is that in the center of the eye 




Figure 18.— Horizontal section through the left eye. 
Gegenbaur.) 



RETINA 
CHOROID 
SCLEROTIC 



(.Schematic, from 



only cones appear, and they are exceedingly numerous, over 
1,000,000 being found in a -^^ inch square. 

The optic nerve fibers cannot be directly stimulated by light. 
The place on the retina where the optic nerve enters tlie eye is in 



126 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

fact entirely blind, because nothing but fibers (and no rods and 
cones) exist there. This spot is wanting in all nervous elements 
sensitive to light. To prove the existence of the blind spot, close 
the right eye and look steadily with the left at the cross in Fig. 
19, holding the book in front of the face, moving it to and fro. 
At about one foot from the face the black disk entirely disap- 
pears; when nearer than this or farther from the face it is seen. 
In this simple experiment it is absolutely necessary to keep the 
left eye focused on the cross. The blind spot is about ji^ of an 
inch long in the average human eye. 

Aside from the blind spot the sensibility of the eye varies 
greatly. The place of clearest vision is the " yellow spot " which 
is oval in shape, with a central depression called the fovea. This 
yellow spot is about 1-16 of an inch in length and lies at a dis- 




FlQURB 19. 

tance of 1-6 of an inch from the middle of the blind spot. As Dr. 
Sanford suggests, the yellow spot may be projected and seen in 
the following manner : Close the eyes for about thirty seconds 
and then look with one of them through a flat-sided bottle, con- 
taining a saturated solution of chrome alum, at the clear sky. In 
the blue-green solution of the chrome alum a rose-colored spot 
will be seen which corresponds to the yellow spot of the eye. 

We see single with two eyes, just as we hear single with two 
ears and smell single with two nostrils. We can, however, see 
double under certain conditions, though we can never hear double 
or smell double. An easy and clear demonstration of this fact is 
to roll a sheet of paper so as to have a tube an inch or two in 
diameter and a foot long. Keep both eyes open, and hold with 
your right hand one end of the tube to your right eye (with 



SENSATION. 127 

which you are to look through the tube) to restrict its field, and 
leave the left eye unrestricted as to its field of vision. Place the 
open left hand (palm side toward you) against the left side of 
the tube directly in the field of vision for the left eye. With both 
eyes look straight ahead. With your right eye you see the hole 
of the tube and with the left you see your hand. Your mind super- 
imposes the image of the one on that of the other, consequently 
3'ou see your hand with a hole in it just the diameter of the tube. 
Again, take the same tube and hold it over one eye and then with 
both eyes look at a finely figured wall paper or carpet. To the eye 
whose retinal field is restricted by the tube the object looked at 
will appear further away than it does to the other eye. Another 



Figure 20. 

interesting experiment in this direction would be for the reader 
to gaze fixedly at Fig. 20 with the black spots directly in front 
of the right and left eyes, respectively. After looking at it for 
a little time, as if the paper were at an infinite distance, or as if 
he were looking through it, the reader will see the two black dots 
fusetogether and combine into one. This combined spot is located 
directly in front of his nose on a line between thetwoactualspots. 
This combined spot results from seeing the two spots in front of 
each eye with the same part of the fovea. 

If instead of two identical spots we use two different figures or 
two differently-colored spots or areas as objects for the same two 
fovea to focus upon, they cannot appear as a single object but al- 
ternate/j displace each other from view. This is the phenomenon 



128 



PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 



known as retinal rivalry. If one looks with each eye upon a differ- 
ent image, as in Fig. 21, sometimes the one sometimes the other 
will be perceived. A piece of cardboard or paper ought to be 
placed in a vertical position on the middle dividing line so as to 
confine the vision of each eye to the figure or system of lines imme- 
diately in front of it. As Helmholtz puts it, we find that we are 
able "to attend voluntarily now to one and now to the other sys- 
tem of lines ; and then that system remains visible alone for a cer- 
tain time, while the other entirely vanishes. This happens, for ex- 
ample, if one attempts to count the lines first of one and then of 




Figure 21. 



the other system ; but it is extremely difficult to chain the atten- 
tion down to either one of the systems, for long," etc. 

That the rods and cones of the retina are arranged in a mosaic 
is indicated in Bergman's experiment. Place the system of lines 
in the left portion of Fig. 22 in a good light and gaze fixedly 
at it from a distance of about 5 feet. You will notice an appar- 
ent bending of the lines, as shown in the portion A, of the same 
figure. This is, of course, explicable on the basis of the mosaic 
arrangement. The retinal elements on which one of the white 
lines happens to fall are stimulated according as they are more 
or less touched, give rise to corresponding sensations. 



SENSATION. 



129 



If, after looking intently at any bright object with a reasona- 
bly clear outline, we close our eyes, it is found that an image of 
the object remains for some time and only fades out of sight 
gradually. This phenomenon is known by the name of "after- 
image." After-images in which the arrangement of light and 
shade found in the original object is preserved are called posi- 
tive after-images — i. e., the bright and dark parts correspond to 
those of the original object. Those after-images in which this 
relation is reversed are called negative after-images. The posi- 
tive after-image has a color like that of the original object. In 
the negative the opposite or complementary colors are evoked. 




Figure 22. 



It some moi-uing you look steadily for a minute at the win- 
dow of your room and then direct your eyea so as to look on a 
whited wall or screen the dark parts of the window will appear 
light, and vice versa. The arrangement of light and shade are 
here reversed just as in a photographic negative. If we look at 
a green surface for some time and then fix the eye upon a white 
sheet of paper or screen we find that the latter will contain an 
image of red color corresponding in size and outline to the orig- 
inal green surface. For example, if you look for a moment at a 
small green circle and then fix your eyes upon the white surface 
you will see within the bounds of the white surface a red circle as 
the negative after-image. Negative after-images are really a 
L. p.— 9 



130 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

form of retinal fatigue, but the positive are in all probability 
due to the inertia of the retina . 

Bright surfaces are alM-ays enlarged at the expense of dark 
surfaces by which they may happen to be surrounded ; this is 
called the phenomenon of irradiation. With Fig. 23 in a good 
light, notice that the white squares seem larger than the black, 
though they are actually of the same size. 

In the same connection it should be mentioned that color in- 
fluences the apparent size of an object. Every woman knows that 
her hand looks smaller in a. black than in a white glove. The so- 
ciety belle declines to wear a white slipper to the ball or german 
because it makes her foot appear larger and less dainty than 




Figure 23, 

would a red slipper. The gray shades of suiting make a man ap- 
pear larger than when he wears a soft black. You have observed 
the same thing with reference to the colors of dwellings. A house 
painted a gray or light stone color will seem larger and nearer to 
the street (if one is looking at it from that point of view) than it 
would if painted any other color. 

We now come to speak of the phenomenon of color blindness. 
With certain persons certain defects of vision exist of such a na- 
ture that they are unable to distinguish someof the color shades. 
Such individuals are said to be "color blind." A little more than 
one hundred years ago it was discovered that there were persona 
who could not distinguish certain colors. The first case recorded 
was that of John Dalton,the celebrated English chemist. The 



SENSATION. 131 

description he made of his defect was widely read and attracted 
general notice. The defect itself was named "Daltonism." About 
four per cent, of persons, or one in every twenty-jBve, are color 
blind. 

This phenomenon is quite frequently met with among railroad 
men, especially locomotive engineers, a number of whom are 
blind to the red rays. That they are "red blind" is probably 
due to the fact that in their long apprenticeship as firemen their 
eyes became over-stimulated by the red rays of the glaring fur- 
nace grates, so that those elements of the retina whose function it 
is to perceive red have simply been so fatigued and" worn out" 
that they cannot " take up the burden of life again." Holmgren's 
method of testing color blindness is the one ordinarily employed. 
Spread the variously colored worsteds on a white cloth in good 
daylight. Select any one distinct color — e. g. , a light blue — and ask 
the person serving as subject to select from the mass of wor.steds 
all the other skeins that seem to him to be the same in color as 
the standard you have already laid to one side. If he makes 
errors in putting pink, gray, green, buff, lavender, lilac, magenta, 
etc., with the blue skein you selected, he is evidently color blind. 
Red blindness is most frequently met with, while violet blindness 
is exceedingly rare. 

A person red blind sees black and white and their mixture, 
which makes gray, much the same as others do. He cannot distin- 
guish correctly the color 6! any red object. If the object is very 
bright red, it looks like feeble green, and if feeble red, it appears 
black. The explanation of this, according to the above theory is 
that the waves of light from a red object on entering a red-blind 
eye do not produce the sensation of red, because the red perceiv- 
ing nerve elements are absent, but they fall on the green and vio- 
let perceiving elements. The waves of light from green objects 
are nearest the length of those of red objects, and the waves from 
bright red objects excite the green perceiving nerve elements 
slightly, producing the sensation of feeble green, while feeble red 
is not sufficiently strong to excite them, and the sensation is 
black or perhaps a brown. 



132 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

Yellow, which is a combination of red and green , appears green 
to the red blind, as the red part of it produces no impression 
except on the green-perceiving nerve elements. 

Red and green objects may appear to him of the same color, 
only differing in intensity. An intense red and feeble green may 
appear to him to be of the same color. "A color-blind oflBcer 
once desired to purchase a blue uniform ; he chose a blue coat 
and waistcoat and red breeches, which he supposed matched." 

Another case is that of a person who said he could not see 
any difference between the red ripe fruit on the trees and the 
leaves ; a boiled lobster and a cucumber were to him of the same 
color. 

Another wrote a letter, part with black ink and part with red, 
without being aware of any difference. Another says a red-brick 
house and the green lawn on which it is situated are of the same 
color. 

A color-blind engraver says his defect is an advantage to him, 
as he sees colored objects in black and white, just as he desires to 
engrave them. A color blind person picked up a red-hot coal and 
asked what that funny green thing was. Another, an artist, 
painted a landscape with red trees. Another purchased a pair of 
green pants supposing they were brown. An architect copied a 
brown house in blue and green and made the sky above it rose 
color. A post-office clerk, who sold the stamps, found himself in 
trouble because he did not distinguish the red from the green 
stamps by their color.* 

Color blindness is, however, normal at the periphery of the 
retina. This leads us to make mention of the fact that impor- 
tant changes in the quality of our sensations are dependent upon 
the portion of the retina on which the visual image falls. The 
entire retina can be divided into three l)elts or zones— a central 
one (the belt immediately surrounding the yellow spot), a middle 
zone and an outer or peripheral one. In the zone immediately 
surrounding the fovea, nearly all colors can be recognized. Out- 

*Many other such examples are found In Superintendent Peckham's Interesting 
article on Color Blindness— WlBCOnsln Board of Health report for 1881. 



SENSATION. 133 

side of this is the second zone, in which blue and yellow can alone 
be distinguished. Farther out at the periphery, color shades can- 
not be distinguished at all, the various colors all appearing 
black, white or gray. In passing from the center to the periphery 
red changes at first into orange, then into violet and blue in turn, 
and finally, into grey as it passes out from the field of vision. 

Have you ever tried this interesting experiment? Require 
the subject to fix his attention on some designated point di- 
rectly in front of him. While his eyes are thus fixed on this 
point, approach him from behind with a pencil or small stick, or, 
better, a black piece of pasteboard, at the end of which is a small 
bit of colored paper— e. g., yellow. Observe how far forward it 
must be moved before he will discern its color. You will notice 
that some colors must be moved much farther forward than 
others in order that they may be recognized. Furthermore, you 
will observe that the object is seen, no matter what be its color, 
long before the color is itself recognized. 

It is a disputed question as to how many colors are distin- 
guishable. You remember Newton speaks of the "seven primary 
colors." Some of the colors he names, however, are not any 
more primary or fundamental than many he omits. At any rate, 
it is certain that his classification is very unsatisfactory. Why 
indigo should be given a place in his list while brown is shut out, 
is difficult to conceive. We know that the number of color tones 
discernible by the human eye is very large. In oil the average 
person can perceive 125 colors. Herschel makes the claim that 
the Avorker on the mosaics at Rome must have distinguished at 
least 30,000 color tones. 

It has been claimed that certain of the early nations — that is, 
the human race at a certain primitive stage of culture, had no 
color sensations— they were color blind. In one of his earlier 
writings, Gladstone makes the claim that the ancient Greeks were 
color blind to blue, and bases this claim on the fact that Homer 
had no proper terms for blue. Also in describing the rainbow no 
mention was made of blue. The Bongo negroes of Central Amer- 
ica designate but two colors— red and black. It is interesting 



134 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

to note in this connection that some insects have distinct color 
sensations. 

If certain colors, for example green and red, are in someway 
united on the retina, we have a distinct sensation of a new color 
tone very unlike either of the two thus united. If red and green 
are so united we have the color called "white." Two colors 
which by their admixture produce white are called complemen- 
tary colors. For every color there is another which, if mixed with 
it, will produce a colorless combination. The complementary 
colors for different persons are not always the same, and the 
two eyes of the same person may differ in this respect. The sub- 
joined table of Helmholtz, has some general significance as bear- 
ing on this subject of complementary colors : 

Complementary 
Color. Color. 

Red Green-blup 

Orangp Blue 

Yellow Indigo-bhie 

Green-yellow Violet 

The effect of one color on another when two patches of color 
are adjacent or are presented to the eye, one directly after the 
other, is called contrast. You all know that a bright object ap- 
pears brighter with surroundings darker than itself and darker 
with surroundings brighter than itself. 

We have both successive and simultaneous contrast. Select a 
piece of medium gray paper from which cut four small squares 
(each about one-half inch square). Then choose four differently 
colored sheets of paper— e. g., bright red, yellow, blue and green, 
each piece about six inches square. Lay one of your small squares 
of gray on each of these colored pieces and cover them all with a 
piece of white tissue paper. Your gray squares that are actually 
of the same shade now appear to be of different colors. In each 
case they assume a shade or color tone complementary to that 
of the large color surface on which they lie. Thus thegray square 
that happens to lie on the blue ground will appear yellow, the 
one on the green surface will appear a deep pink, the one on the 
yellow will appear blue, while that on the red will appear green. 



SENSATION. 135 

The retinal image in the hiimau eye is, as you know, always In- 
verted; the points that are at the right and upper portion of 
the object are at the left and lower portion of the image, and vice 
versa. Still we do not see the object inverted, corresponding to 
the image on the retina, but we see it -'right side up" corre- 
sponding to the object itself. That the image on the retina is 
inverted is specifically characteristic of the eyes of vertebrates. 
The composite image in the compound eye of the glowworm or 
fly is not an inverted but an upright retinal image. 

Again, how is it, having two eyes and therefore two retinal 
images, that we do not see objects as double, as we do when we 
push the side of the eyeball with our finger when gazing fixedly 
at an object? The customary union of the two retinal images 
is in the main accounted for by the crossing of the optic nerve 
fibers, for by this means the excitations produced in the left half 
of each retina are joined and together conducted to the right 
hemisphere of the brain, and vice versa. 

With a single motionless eye we could have no possible percep- 
tion of solid objects. The retinal images are superficial and plani- 
form, but the mind sees things as solids. The mind, then, asso- 
ciates the ideas gained through movement and touch with those of 
simple vision. A person that is blind from birth and receives his 
eyesight later in life as the gift of supreme surgical skill, conceives 
all objects to be directly in contact — in actual touch with the 
outer surface of the eyeball. He only learns by degrees to pro- 
ject his sensations of sight accurately with reference to both dis- 
tance and solidity. 

By vision ^ alone a sphere is perceived simply as a delicately 
shaded disk. A cube is a flat surface bounded by converging 
lines and abruptly shaded. Ruskin says : "The whole technical 
power of painting depends on our recovery of what maybe called 
the innocence of the eye; that is to say, of a sort of childish per- 
ception of these flat stains of color merely as such, without a con- 
sciousness of what they signify as a blind man would see them if 
suddenly gifted with sight." 

In normal circumstances sight is the leading avenue of percep- 



136 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSTCHOLOGT. 

tion or observation. The superiority of vision to the othersensee 
is due to the fact that by means of this avenue of sense we can 
apprehend things at a distance as well as those that are near, as 
well as a great many things at the same time — for example, the 
variously colored leaves of an autumn tree, or the pattern of a 
wall paper or carpet. And again the eye calls forth our admira- 
tion on account of the extreme delicacy with which it acts. It can 
pass from one object to another with a swiftness which none of 
the other end organs of sense can imitate. It thus gathers a large 
amount of data in a very short time. It places these data at the 
service of the intellect as quick as the intellect can use them. The 
eye has always been regarded as the noblest of the sense-organs. 
As all know, we are exceedingly dependent upon the acquired 
perceptions of sight. Of these acquired perceptions there are sev- 
eral classes. In the first place we judge of distance by size. Again, 
if we know the real size of an object we estimate its distance by 
its apparent magnitude. If we actually know the flying bird to 
be an eagle, and yet find that it appears exceedingly small we are 
sure that it is a great distance from us. If we are on the roof of 
a building and know that the persons walking on the streets be- 
low are full-grown men, which, however, look to us from our ele- 
vation like pygmies, we judge, and judge rightly, that we are quite 
a considerable distance from the ground. Likewise we judge of 
magnitude by the assumed distance. If we have a correct idea of 
the distance we perceive them full size. If, however, we are de- 
ceived as to the distance we always make serious errors with ref- 
erence to the actual size of the object. A fly skipping across the 
Avindow-pane may for a moment be regarded as a la^^ge bird at a 
great distance. If, however, the magnitude be unknown we judge 
of distance by means of the clearness of the color, the sharpness 
of the outline, and the intensity of the impression which the ob- 
ject makes upon us. The traveler from the Atlantic Coast States 
or the smoky Eastern city, who travels across The Plains judges 
the mountains of Colorado to be far nearer than they actually are. 
We hear of many laughable experiences of tourists who have at- 
tempted to walk to a given mountain before breakfast, thinking 



SENSATION. 137 

it to be but a short distance, but discovering that it is actually 
several miles away. Such an illusion is due to the fact that the 
atmosphere is much more transparent than that to which the 
traveler is accustomed. Furthermore, intermediate objects affect 
our judgments of distance and therefore our judgments of size. 
This accounts for the fact that the sun and moon appear larger 
at the horizon than at the zenith. The intensity of the impres- 
sion also plays an important part in these judgments of distance. 
If a light makes but a faint impression on us we judge it to be at 
a considerable distance. When the locomotive engineer, as he 
speeds his train through the darkness, perceives the lights of the 
distant station which are therefore at about the same distance 
from him, he knows which are the red and which are the white 
lights, though they evoke no color sensations. This is because 
the red light always gives rise to a more intense sensation than 
a white light at the same distance. 

The blind man can have no notion of what we mean when we 
speak of objects appearing smaller as they move away, because 
he is compelled to nlways think of them as of their constant tac- 
tile size just as he recognizes them by their " tactile names " after 
he has been made to see. 



LESSOT< XII. 

SENSATION (continued). 
HEARING. 

The human ear consists of three portions— tie external ear or 
concha; the middle ear or tympanum ; and the internal ear or 
labyrinth. (For a description of the structure of the ear the 
reader is referred to any good book on anatomy. Space will not 
permit a detailed description here.)* 

The internal ear is really the organ of liearingand consists of a 
complicated and tortuous bony tube orchamber resemblingsome- 
what the interior of a snail shell. The function of the external ear 
(the expansion seen on the exterior of the head, called the concha) 
is to receive, convey and modify the vibratory action of the air 
until the tympanum is reached. The tympanum, or "drum of 
the ear," consists of a parchment-like substance which is con- 
nected with a chain of bones that play upon a membranous 
chamber inclosing a liquid substance. 

Bodies vary in the ability to emit or convej^ sound. This is 
the same as saying that their susceptibility to vibration is differ- 
ent. A stick of timber or bar of iron will convey to the ear in 
contact with it the sound made by a scratch of a pin, for hun- 
dreds of feet. Likewise the rudely constructed toy telephone of 
childhood days will convey a whisper for a long distance, though 
it consists of nothing but two pasteboard collar boxes connected 
by a piece of twine from 1,500 to 8,000 feet in length. 

Waves that are non-periodic produce what is called a "noise;" 
when these same auditory waves are periodic they constitute a 
" tone " or " note." What are ordinarily called noises are really 
accompanied by musical notes. The slamming door is accompa- 

*The best published work thus far is that on "The Vertebrate Ear," by Dr. 
Howard Avers. Pulilished in Jovrnal of Morpholony. Mav. 1892. 
(138) 



SENSATION. 189 

nied by some music. Likewise all tones are accompanied by 
noises. For example, the scraping of the violin. Noises may be 
compounded out of musical notes. Thus, when you strike a sin- 
gle key on the piano you have a musical tone. Strike all the 
keys at the same time and you have, instead of several musical 
notes, a most outrageous non-musical noise. 

The various efforts made by scientists to determine the lower 
limit of sound for the human ear, have resulted in disagreement. 
The difficulty, of course, lies in the fact that the absolute stillness 
essential to the perfect working of the experiment can never be 
secured. The best record of which we know up to date gives the 
result of researches made by Schafhautl who fixed the lower limit 
of sound as that made by a cork ball weighing one milligram 
(.0154 grains), falling from a height of one millimeter (.03937 
inch). The acuteness of hearing is frequently increased hy dis- 
ease. " Exalted hearing," by which is meant an unduly keen per- 
ception of sounds, is common to many disturbances of the nervous 
system, both functional and organic. As a rule, the intoxi- 
cated person has the experience of "exalted hearing," i. e., his 
sense of hearing is more acute than when he is in a nor- 
mal or "sober" condition. The test usually employed by 
railroad corporations to discover the acuteness of the sense of 
hearing in their employes serves very well as a laboratory test, 
though crudeitmayseem,forthepurposeof determining the mini- 
mal sounds that can be heard. The experiment should take place 
in a large carpeted room, as free as possible from noise. Let the 
subject be seated with his side toward the experimenter. He 
should be blindfolded and have the ear opposite to the one being 
tested plugged with cotton. The experimenter then endeavors 
to find what is the greatest distance at which the subject can 
hear the tick of a watch which is held at the level of the ear. The 
distance at which the sound of the watch-tick can be heard may 
be found to vary from three to seven yards. 

Attention has already been called to the fact that by bringing 
the finger in contact with a cogwheel revolving at agivenrate, or 
atuning fork, we may have as many as 1,000 sensations in a single 



140 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

second. (Seepage 116.) But if the rate be increased beyond 1 ,000 
per second there results one continuous sensation. The sense 
of hearing comes closest to the sense of touch. In experiments 
with one ear the crack of two electric sparks may be heard as 
distinct when the one sounds .002 of a second before the other; 
or, to be more accurate, .00205 of a second. When the sounds 
come as close together as .00198 of a second they are heard as 
one sound, a little louder than a single spark would make. In 
experiments with both ears the limit is higher— .064 of a second. 

To recapitulate briefly, we would say that the specific physical 
stimulus for the organ of hearing consists of simple sound waves 
that unite sometimes as musical sound waves and sometimes as 
sound waves of noise. These sound waves act as stimuli upon 
the peripheral termination of the auditory nerve. 

Sensations of musical sound can also be produced by electrical 
stimulation of the auditory nerve. Mechanical stimuli, such as 
the pressure of tumors on the auditory nerve, also produce sen- 
sations of hearing. 

In our psychological investigations of the sensations of sound 
we must first consider their various qualities. We must, how- 
ever, exclude the large class of sensations known as noises, since 
they compose an especial group of sensations hardly accessible 
to investigation. For our present purpose it is sufficient to de- 
vote our attention to the simple sensations of tones and of music- 
al sounds. Your knowledge of physics tells you that the so-called 
tones of the piano are not simple but complex. Simple sounds are 
most easily produced by striking a tuning fork. We get compar- 
atively simple tones by blowing across the neck of an open bottle 
or from a flute. The only difference in the quality of all really 
simple tones lies in their pitch, to which the number of vibrations 
per second on the part of the stimulating medium corresponds. 
The greater the number of vibrations the higher do we perceive 
the tone to be. The lowest audible note varies, of course, with 
different individuals. For the average person the lower limit of 
pitch is about 40 vibrations per second. Helmholtz puts the 
limit at 28 vibrations, Preyer at 16, others at 19 and 23, while 



SENSATION. 141 

Wundt claims to have heard even eight vibrations per second. 
The highest audible note is made up of about 40,000 vibrations 
per second. Some persons cannot hear the cry of a bat or the 
chirp of a cricket, which comprise about 37,500 vibrations a 
second. 

The sensitiveness of the ear to differences of pitch varies greatly 
with different individuals and with the same individual for the 
different octaves of the musical scale. Persons are frequently met 
with, who are totally insensitive to differences in pitch — they do 
not know one note from another. How terrible it must be to 
have this world full of beautiful rhythmic sounds reduced to a 
continuous monotone. 

By an elaborate series of experiments, it has been found that 
if we sound a tone of 120 vibrations and then one of 120|- vibra- 
tions per second, the average person can clearly distinguish the 
pitch of both tones. If we produce a tone of 960 vibrations per 
second, it is found that a tone of 960i vibrations can be distin- 
guished from it. But if it required i of a vibration when the rate 
is 120 per second, it ought require 8 times i, or more than one 
vibration, when the number is 960 per second. Therefore, the 
relative discriminative ability is not constant. 

We now come to define timbre. By the timbre of a note we 
mean its ' ' color tone. ' ' To illustrate. The C of the piano sounds 
quite different fi*om the pure C produced by the flute or tuning- 
fork, despite the absolute sameness of pitch. The C of the violin 
or human voice would differ still from that of either the piano or 
flute. Compare the C of different makes of pianos, the same ab- 
solute number of vibrations are evoked in each case, but there is a 
difference between the C of the Stein way, Knabe, Chickering or 
Sohmer pianos, respectively. All these differences of quality in 
the auditory sensations when the pitch remains the same, are 
comprehended in the conception of "timbre" or color tone. 

Bearing upon the discriminative ability of the ear for the 
intensity of sounds we have the interesting series of experiments 
by Dr. Merkel and Professor Frank Angell. Merkel permitted 
the person on whom he was experimenting to hear two stimuli 



142 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

of sound that are alike in quality but different in intensity, and 
then requested him to determine an acoustic stimulus that would 
give rise to a sensation that could be classified as lying directly 
between the first two. Experimenting in this way Merkel and 
others have found that the just perceivable increment of loudness 
required an increase of three-tenths of the original stimulus be- 
tween 20 and 5,000 of his arbitrary scale. 

The discriminative ability of the ear both for differences in 
pitch and for differences in intensity is largely influenced by rep- 
etition and by amount of time that elapses between the two 
stimuli producing the sensations that are to be compared. Two 
tones so closely related as to be just distinguishable when heard 
in immediate succession appear to consciousness as one and the 
same when the interval is over one-half of a minute. 

We are quite likely to be mistaken with reference to our judg- 
ments of the direction from which sound comes and the location 
of its source. When the head is held at rest and a sound stimu- 
lus occurs, we frequently make mistakes by saying the sound 
came from before when it really came from behind ; that it came 
from above when it really came from below. Sound coming from 
the right and left is also exceedingly difficult to distinguish when 
the head is kept motionless. Of course we are guided by experi- 
ence. Weaker sensations of sound are localized at a point re- 
mote from us, while the stronger sensations are regarded as 
coming from a point quite near. Seat a person and blindfold 
him. Snap a telegraph sounder at different localities about two 
feet from his head and require him to designate the point from 
which the sound came. You will find that the above statements 
with reference to errors in judging the distinction of sound, are 
more than verified by such an experiment. 

Continuous sounds are more difficult to localize than short, 
sharp, rapid sounds. In a room heated by steam, blindfold a per- 
son standing near the center, turn him round and round until he 
loses all notion of the points of the compass. Open the stopcock 
of the steam radiator and he will misjudge its location nearly 
every time. The slight sound made by the breathing of a sleeping 



SENSATION. 143 

child in the next room may be interpreted to be the wail of a hound 
in the distant woods. The writer remembers when a boy of being 
terribly frightened by " ghosts." A noise was heard presumably 
directly overhead in a vacant attic. The ghost stories and 
pale face of the servant influenced the childish judgment. On the 
morrow it was discovered that the aforesaid ghost was nothing 
more than the noise made by the scraping of a limb of an apple- 
tree against the side of the house as the wind blew. The sound 
really came from a point at least forty feet removed from the 
supposed origin, and from a point almost directly opposite. 
Did you ever wait for a train at the noisy depot, with the 
engines passing back and forth ? Have you not at such times 
at the sound of an approaching engine hurriedly snatched your 
traveling bag with a view to getting a good seat, rushed to 
the platform and found, instead of your train, one going in the 
opposite direction? If you ever have an opportunit}', stand for a 
minute on State street in Chicago and seek to judge from which 
direction comes the sound of the gong of the cable car. Just a 
moment ago while writing the above I was thoroughly deceived 
by the slight hissing, whistling sound of a disorganized gas jet 
turned up to its full lighting power. This little annoying sound 
until just this instant I thought to be the whistle of a locomotive 
three-quarters of a mile away, instead of coming from any part of 
my "den." 

Seasickness begins with the ear. In the internal ear or laby- 
rinth are three little tubes which are placed at right angles to each 
other, just like the three sides at the corner of a book or cubical 
box. They are bent circular and filled with a fluid. They are 
more frequently known as the semicircular canals. You can see 
if one's head is moved at all the fluid in some one of these three 
tubes is set in motion. Jutting out from the inner surface of 
each of these canals are hairs or ciliary processes which connect 
with nerve cells that are in touch with the auditory nerves, and 
by this means connected with the auditory center on the brain- 
surface itself. As the peculiar nei-ve current caused by the motion 
of the head is transmitted to the brain it, atonepointon its jour- 



144 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

ney,run8 near the "center" where the nerve controlling the stom- 
ach has its origin. When the moving and jerking of the head is 
too prolonged or too violent the stimulus is so great that the 
center for the nerves of the stomach is excited, causing the poor 
voyager to give up his dinner, or, to speak in more approved 
vernacular, he is impelled to "cast his bread upon the waters." 
Deaf mutes, the semicircular canals of whose ears are affected, 
are never seasick just as they are never dizzy, and for the same 
reason. 

Hearing possesses the highest significance in the development 
of every human mind. Without the sense of hearing vocal utter- 
ances would never become language. 

Sounds are also significant as expressing the emotional life of 
man. Even simple and articulate tones can express the deepest 
feeling, though no words are coupled with them. The sigh of 
distress, the peal of laughter, the whine of a beggar are as clearly 
understood and sometimes more clearly understood without any 
accompaniment of words. Mendelssohn's" Songs without Words" 
cannot fail to touch every person who hears them. Humanity is 
unanimous in naming one of these musical gems "Consolation." 
The sense of hearing enables a man to communicate with his fel- 
low man. The brotherhood of man is directly dependent upon 
the sense of hearing. The voice is the interpreter of nearly all 
the emotions. As an intelligent blind man remarked with great 
emphasis, " The human voice is to me the divinest endowment of 
man." Certain it is that the dignity of hearing is above that of 
any of the other senses. 

A comparatively frequent phenomena is that known as color 
audition or pseudo-chromesthesia. By these and similar terms 
it is meant to signify that large class of phenomena in which 
colors are called up in the mind of the person when certain letters 
or words are spoken or seen in print or writing. These experiences 
indicate a peculiar "faculty " by means of which any primary sen- 
sation can evoke, in the case of some persons, a false visual sensa- 
tion of color constant in the case of the same stimulus with the 
same person. 



SENSATIOX. 145 

A considerable number of cases have been investigated by the 
writer, but only one is selected on account of limited space. It is 
that of a young lady, much above the average in intelligence and 
very accomplished. She is a skillful musician, having taught in 
a conservatory of music for some years ; very well informed as to 
literature, and is herself a pleasing writer. With her these pseudo- 
color impressions are produced in three ways: First, and chiefly, 
when she sees the graphic forms of words and letters; second 
when she hears letters, words and other sounds; and, third, by 
means of association of ideas. With this person all the letters 
are colored and as follows : 

A = opaque white. N=gray. 

B =;dark cactus green. = black on white ground. 

C =pale yellow. P = bright yellow. 

D ^tan color. Q = Naples yellow (buff). 

E =:warm gray but pale. R^dark green. 

F nizvery dark brown. S = light green. 

G =: yellowish bright tan. T=red ; less intense than H or K. 

H = red, crimson. U = gray. 

1 =black V = pearl — slightly lavender. 
J =rr black, soTnetinies shades into W:= black. 

green. X = red; still less intense. 

K = red — very like H . Y = yellow into green . 

L==black. Z= brown sometimes shading into 

M=rbhie. -^ an iridescent purple. 

The numerical digits are also colored. Thus 1 is black like i; 

2 is opaque white, like a ; 3 is bright green, slightly yellow; 4 is 
seal brown; 5, black; 6, gray; 7, yellow; 8, pink; 9, brown, 
lighter than 4. The colors of numbers are often and even gener- 
ally more intense than those of letters. 

In music written in different keys, C, D, etc., the music has a 
general background of color which is the same as that of the in- 
dex letter indicating the key. Thus, music written in the key of 
D is tan color. All "sharp" keys are brighter and "flats" are 
less brilliant. 

Words pronounced alike but spelled differently have different 
colors. AVords generally take their tone of color from the initial 

L. P.— 10 



146 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

letter. Thus with the same letters in different combinations we 
have different color-impressions — p. 5. , c/eer ^ tan ; reec/— green- 
ish yellow. With this person we find there is an intimate relation 
between form and color. In grouping several letters of one color 
we find that H, K, T, and X are red ; B, R, S, and 6 are green; 
C, G, P, Q, Y and 7 are j'ellow; Z, F, 4 and 9 are brown; N, U, 
V, A and E are gray. 

Furthermore, the membrane of the ear is able to give us, by 
means of faint and delicate pressure sensations, a pretty good 
picture of the outside world irrespective of oureyes. Supposeyou 
close your eyes when quietly seated ; have some one bring a large 
object like a book or block of wood near to your face in a per- 
fectly noiseless manner; you at once becomeaware of itspresence 
and then of its departure. Most persons, when blindfolded, can 
readily tell by the "feel" in the ear and face whether the object 
placed near to the face is thick or thin, solid or open, etc. Thus 
any one caa distinguish between a solid board, a perforated 
board, a piece of wire gauze and an empty frame, respectively. 

Mr. Dresslar has made some interesting investigations into 
this subject.* As apparatus he used a light framework of wood 
four feet long and one foot wide, and divided into four spaces, 
each one foot square. The first one of these spaces was left open, 
the second latticed with strips three-quarters of an inch wide, and 
with spaces of one-half of an inch between them; the first space 
was closed solidly with a panel of wood, while the fourth was 
filled with a wire screen. The frame was then suspended from a 
high ceiling by four strings fastened in pairs (so that it would 
swing lengthwise easily and without swerving) and made to 
swing low enough to be opposite the face of the subject. A silk 
thread was fastened to the ends of the frame, and passed over 
small pulleys inserted in standards set about ten feet from each 
end of the frame. The two ends of the strings were then tied to- 
gether to furnish the operator an easy and noiseless method for 
shifting the frame so as to bring the different spaces opposite the 
ear and face of the subject. 

* American Journal of Psychology, Vol. V, No. 3. 



SENSATION. 



147 



The methorl of experimentation was as follows : The subject 
with closed eyes was blindfolded in such a way that little or none 
of the face but the eyes was covered ; he was seated comfortably 
with his face at a distance of two or three inches from the path 
of the frame, and asked to judge between two spaces irregularly 
presented. He was required to indicate his judgment by a pre- 
arranged system of signs in order to prevent any reverbera- 
tion of the voice which might vitiate the results. The first set of 
judgments were thus taken, and were for the purpose of finding 
the degree of power to distinguish between the three following 
pairs: Open — lattice; lattice — solid; solid — wire. The accom- 
panying table shows the discriminative ability thus discovered 
for three different subjects : 



SUB.IECT. 



Open and Lattice. 



Lattice and Solid. 



Solid and Wire. 



R. W. R. W. 



J. A. B. . 
O. C. . . . 
F. B. D. . 



65 15 
72 47 
53 24 



R. w. 



59 25 
74 46 
58 17 



58 2 
33 13 
69 1 



R. W. 



R. w. 



56 
28 14 
70 4 



45 
21 4 
73 



R. w. 



46 2 
14 9 

77 2 



Explnnation of Tnhlc .—The figures lu the columns marked R indicate the num- 
ber of correct judgments, those in columns marked II' incorrect. For example, 
when J. A. B. judged between the open and lattice spaces, he made 65 right and 15 
wrong judgments in 80 presentations of the open, and 59 right and 25 wrong in 84 
presentations of the lattice; while judging between lattice and solid, he made 58 
right and 2 wrong judgments in 60 presentations of the lattice, and 56 right and no 
wrong judgments when the solid was presented, and so on for all the others. 



Of course in the ordinary routine of daily life the normal per- 
son makes no use of the feeling of " shut-in-ness " he experiences 
when a more or less solid object is held near the face. The blind, 
however, are very dependent upon this peculiar class of sensa- 
tions. No man enjoys traveling more than the blind man. He 
can tell whether his train is wending its way through a hilly, un- 
even country or over the broad plains. The blind man is ever 



148 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

aware of the extent of his horizon. In an interesting book, 
" BUndness and the Blind," its author gives an interestingaccount 
of howthebhnd receive their perceptive images : "Whether within 
a house or in the open air, whether walking or standing still, I can 
tell, although quite blind, when I am opposite an object, and can 
perceive whether it be tall or short, slender or bulky. I can also 
detect whether it be a solitary object or a continuous fence ; 
whether it be a close fence or composed of open rails; and often 
whether it be a wooden fence, a brick or stonewall, or a quickset 
hedge, I cannot usually perceive objects if much lower than my 
shoulder, but sometimes very low objects can be detected. This 
may depend on the nature of the objects, or on some abnormal 
state of the atmosphere. The currents of air can have nothing to 
do with this power, as the state of the wind does not directly af- 
fect it; the sense of hearing has nothing to do with it, as when 
snow lies thickly on theground objects are more distinct, although 
the footfall cannot be heard. I seem to perceive objects through 
the skin of my face, and to have the impressions immediatelj' 
transmitted to the brain. 

"The only part of my body possessing this power is my face; 
this I have ascertained by suitable experiments. Stopping my 
ears does not interfere with it, but covering my face with a thick 
veil destroys it altogether. None of the five senses have any- 
thing to do with the existence of this power,and the circumstances 
abovenamed induce me to call this unrecognized sense by the name 
of 'facial perception.' AA^hen passing along a street I can distin- 
guish shops from private houses, and even point out the doors 
and windows, etc, and this whether the doors be shut or open. 
When a window consists entirely of one entire sheet of glass it is 
more difficult to discover than one composed of a number of 
small panes. From this it would appear that glass is a bad con- 
ductor of sensation, or at any rate, of the sensation specially 
connected with this sense. When objects below the face are 
perceived, the sensation seems to come in an oblique line from 
the object to the upper part of the face. While walking with a 
friend in Forest Lane, Stratford, I said, pointing to a fence 



SENSATION. 149 

which separated the road from a field, ' Those rails are not quite 
so high as my shoulder.' He looked at them and said they were 
higher. We, however, measured and found them about three 
inches lower than my shoulder. At the time of making this ob- 
servation I was about four feet from the rails. Certainly in this 
instance facial perception was more accurate than sight. When 
the lower part of a fence is brickwork and the upper part rails, 
the fact can be detected, and the line where the two meet easily 
perceived. Irregularities in height, and projections and indenta- 
tions in walls can also be discovered." 



LESSON XIII. 

DEVELOPMENT OF THE SENSES. 

We now propose to speak of the early development of the 
child's intellect. Since all knowledge begins with sensation, this 
statement means no more and no less than to say that in this 
chapter our endeavor will be to trace the processes of growth 
with respect to the sense perceptions of the infant's earliest life. 
The question we are really occupied with is : By what process of 
unfolding, in what order, from what germ beginnings, through 
what steps or stages, does the child mind develop and mature its 
powers of sense perception ? 

The difficulty one meets in endeavoring to answer such a ques- 
tion is almost insuperable, since it is impossible by memory to 
bring back a single vestige of the experiences of the earliest days 
of our infant life. As far as memory is concerned, the first days 
of our childhood are shrouded over with a cloud of impenetrable 
obscurity. Not a single one of the "first" sensations can be 
called up in memory. No individual can ever possess memory 
power so potent as to be rewarded with success in its endeavors 
to call up to the mind the first experience had with the eyes, ears, 
fingers, etc. Ask yourself the question : What was the first object 
I ever saw ? What was the first sound I ever heard ? What was 
the first thing I ever touched? What was my first sensation of 
temperature, taste, smell, motion and the like ? To even propose 
such questions seems the height of folly. A little snatch of poetry 
from Dr. Holland's " Bitter Sweet " does not come amiss when wo 
think of the immense difficulty that confronts every investigator 
in the realm of Child Psychology : 

Who can tell what a baby thinks? 
Who can follow the gossamer links? 
(150) 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE SENSES. 151 

By which the mannikin feels his way 

Out from the shore of the great unknown, 

Blind and wailing and alone, 

Into the light of day? 
* * * » * 

What does he think of his mother's eyes? 

What does he think of his mother's hair? 

What of the cradle-roof, that flies 

Forward and backward through the air? 
***** 

What does he think when her quick embrace 
Presses his hand and buries his face • 
Deep where the heart throbs sink and swell 
With a tenderness she can never tell, 
Though she murnmr the words 
Of all the birds- 
Words she has learned to murmur well? 

Bub we can tell what our infant life must have been by per- 
forming certain experiments and making certain observations 
upon children from the very first hour of their existence. How it 
must have seemed to us as children we cannot possibly tell. 
Upon the investigations of Child Psychology the introspective 
methods shed no direct light. Observation and experiment are 
the only methods by which we learn the content of a child's 
mind at any stage of its development. Such tests must be so 
adaptable that they can be applied to any child. Although each 
child has the same sense organs, and the same fundamental modes 
of sensibility, we find that striking differences of sense capacity 
are met with in different individuals. No two children are ex- 
actly alike in their sense development. It is impossible for them 
to be so. Each child that enters a school at six years of age is 
different from every other child in that school. His eye, ear, 
hand, and all of his sense organs have been trained differently. 
The child as he presents himself at the schoolroom door is not 
a rounded-out normally developed child. He may have had his 
eye developed at the expense of his ear, or his ear developed at 
the expense of his tactile sense, etc. Now the function of the 
teacher is to develop the mind of the child normally. This means 



152 PRACTICAL LESSONS LV PSYCHOLOGY. 

that the various avenues of sensation must be trained equally 
well. By the training or cultivation of the senses is meant the 
even, harmonious, steady exercising of the child's sense organs 
so that these organs will becomeefficient and valued instruments, 
capable of being used in observation and discovery. 

We all know, if we have observed children at all, that they 
develop the power of perception by many experiments and many 
mistakes. By the same principle that the colt is broken into the 
harness or the dog is trained to know his place and function, 
does nature educate her dearest child — man. If he obeys her laws 
his life is one' of harmony, freedom, delightful satisfaction and 
joy. If he runs counter to the rough edges of stern law it wounds 
and pains. 

Dr. Moebius, professor of zoology at the University of Kiel, 
relates an interesting experiment performed by Mr. Antsberg of 
Stralsund. 

"A pike, who swallowed all small fishes which were put into the 
aquarium, was separated from them by a pane of glass, so that, 
whenever he tried to pounce on them, he struck his gills against 
the glass, and sometimes, so violently, that he remained lying on 
his back as if dead. He recovered, however, and repeated his on- 
slaughts till they became rarer and rarer, and at last, after three 
months, ceased altogether. After having been in solitary con- 
finement for six months, the pane of glass was removed from the 
aquarium so that the pike could again roam about freely among 
the other fishes. He at once swam toward them, but he never 
touched any one of them but always halted at a respectful dis- 
tance of about an inch, and was satisfied to share with the rest 
the meat that was thrown into the aquarium. He had therefore 
been trained so as not to attack the other fishes which he knew 
as inhabitants of the same tank. As soon, however, as a strange 
fish was thrown into the aquarium, the pike in nowise respected 
him but swallowed him at once." In something of the same way 
as the pike learned his lesson by striking his gills against the 
glass, the child learns that the fire burns, the knife cuts, the nee- 
dle pricks, and the like, 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE SENSES. 153 

Leaving these more general observations we come to the direct 
and specific question — What is the primary condition in which 
the mind of the infant exists before the first beginnings of con- 
scious activity ? We can best answer by saying that it is very 
closely allied to the state of unbroken sleep undisturbed by 
dreams. Or it may be likened to a "dead faint" in which little 
shimmerings of sensation are experienced in such an indefinite 
and vague way that they never enter into clear perception. The 
soul or mind of the infant never has sensations in the fullest 
sense until there is a keen, clear-cut, positive experience of pain 
or pleasure. 

The sensations that are first experienced by the child are the 
muscular and organic sensations mentioned in a previous chap- 
ter. While it might be thought that hearing would be one of the 
earliest senses to develop, such is not the case. Usually several 
days elapse before the child can be said to actually hear. Pro- 
fessor Ladd puts the case clearly when he says : "All newly born 
children are deaf; the temporary deafness is caused by lack of air 
in the tympanum previous to respiration. Great individual differ- 
ences exist as respects the age at which children give unmistak- 
able tokens of having sensations of sound. It was not until the 
first half of the fourth day that one investigator was satisfied 
his child could hear." There are, however, some exceptions to 
this. The writer, in making some experiments on his own little 
girl, found that she manifested unmistakable and indubitable 
signs of hearing, within two hours after birth. Though hearing 
is feebly developed at first it remains the longest of any of the 
senses. In falling asleep, hearing is probably the last sense we 
lose. Likewise as death creeps over us we hear to the very last — 
even after the tactile sense is completely benumbed by death's 
chill hand. As a rule, most persons are more easily awakened 
by appeal to hearing than if the stimulus were that of any of the 
other senses. Instates of stupefaction, sleep, drunkenness and 
the like, hearing seems to be the one chief strand that connects 
the mind with the outside world. 

The sense of taste is developed still later than hearing. At first 



154 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

the little babe will swallow bitter medicine as readily as milk. 
Nearly four weeks must elapse before it can possibly distinguish 
the one from the other. The sense of smell comes even later. 
Some recent investigators claim that smell is active from the 
first. 

Almost all agree that after the general muscular sensations, 
together with the organic sensations, those of the skin come next 
in order. Perhaps the first real sensation of pain the infant has 
is when the air rushes into its little lungs for the first time and 
by reflex action it is really compelled to cry and thus announces 
its d^but. 

It is hard to say which is developed first, the hand or the eye. 
The race between the two is "neck and neck." We believe the 
evidence of recent investigation is in favor of the eye. The 
infant sees an object, then reaches for it. Certain it is that the 
child is '* right-eyed " before it is " right-handed." Touch devel- 
ops more rapidly than vision and its early discriminations are 
more delicate. From the very conditions of his pre-natal exist- 
ence we might correctly infer that the sense of contact both 
with reference to temperature and pressure are well developed 
in the infant at birth. It is by means of touch that the child 
learns to distinguish his <'me" from the "not-me." By touch 
he first learns that a portion of the world— his body— is himself 
and that another portion of the world of objects is " not-body." 
By what steps or stages in the progressive unfolding of touch 
does the child acquire the ability to distinguish between his 
"me" and the "not-me" — between himself and the world? 

The first step taken, and a most significant and important 
one it is, is that by which the mind of the child comes to know 
familiarly that his own body is bounded by a limiting surface. Al- 
ready certain muscular and tactile sensations have been clearly 
perceived. The material objects of the outside world which affect 
the child's sensorium come in contact with his bodily surface. 
These sensations of contact are crudely and vaguely localized in 
his skin. By coming in touch with these outside objects the 
child learns to know that his body has a limit. Of this limit he 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE SENSES. 155 

is being made constantly aware. His little sense world is for the 
time being bounded by his skin. 

A second step takes place wh«i he observes that there is a 
difference between touching a part of his own body and some 
other object. When his little baby finger rests on the table or on 
the window-pane, or on the little piece of Hamburg edging with 
which his "swaddling clothes" are trimmed, he observes that 
the experience is different from that which he has when with his 
finger he picks his toes or touches his dimpled knee. In the lat- 
ter case the surface that is touched also gives the sensation of 
being touched; in the case of the other objects there is no such 
sensation. He at once distinguishes between those objects which 
give a sensation of being touched and those which do not. This is 
the distinguishing mark between objects that are "body "and 
those that are " not-body." 

Vision evidently begins at that very early period when the 
child notices and is attracted by the bright and steady light. 
The infant's eye is fixed on such an object and follows it for a 
few degrees from side to side in space. At first the child can 
only move his eyes laterally— i. e., from right to left, or from 
left to right. If the object is moved up and down his eye cannot 
follow it at first, as the muscles which control the vertical motions 
of the eye are slow in receiving their training. 

Statistics seem to show that very few children manifest a pref- 
erence for a particular color before they are fifty days old. (See 
Preyer.) My own experiments have not been very extensive so far 
as the number of subjects is concerned, but they have been very 
thorough on the one little creature that has kindly lent herself for 
the purposes of science— my own little daughter. When she was 
but ten days old I began to experiment upon her with reference 
to her choice of colors. The experiment was very simple. Four 
diminutive incandescent lights of about one-half candle power 
each were used. The globes of these lamps were gaily colored, 
being a bright red, electric blue, bright green and brilliant yel- 
low respectively. All four of these little lamps were placed 
directly in front of her, and then each one of them was re- 



15G PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

moved in turn. The order in which they were removed from 
her field of vision was varied in each of these experiments. This 
was done three times each day, for over two weeks with no pref- 
erence manifested for any one of these four colors. All pleased 
her child eye equally. On the 27th day, however, a distinct 
choice of color was manifested. The four lights were placed be- 
fore her as usual. She looked at them all intently. After one 
minute elapsed the blue one was removed— her eye followed it a 
short distance and then became fixed on the three remaining 
ones. The blue lamp was returned to its place and the red one 
removed ; she followed this one also for but a short distance and 
then allowed her eyes to again become fastened on the accus- 
tomed place. The red lamp was returned to its socket, and the 
yellow one removed. Her eye followed this closely, and when it 
passed out from her field of vision she made it very evident that 
.she was displeased, as she knitted her brows, stiffened her back, 
threw back her head as if angry, looked vacantly into space, and 
would not return her eyes to the place where the other lights re- 
mained burning ns brightly as ever. She evidently wanted the 
yellow light and theyellow light only. It was again broughtwithin 
her field of vision. As quick as her eye caught the brilliant glare a 
marked change came over her face and she showed unmistakable 
signs of pleasure. The experiment was repeated twenty-three 
times in five days, and each time yellow was the decided preference. 
Kindergarten teachers agree quite generally in saying that the 
majority of children coming under their observation prefer yellow 
to any other color. The untutored savage also has a decided 
preference for that color— especially the African tribes. There are 
certainly better reasons for painting a child's toys yellow than 
there are for coloring them red, at least so far as the pleasure of 
the child is concerned. 

Children do not at first see objects as we do— one object nearer 
than an other. At first they have no perception of distance and 
solidity. This is directly in line with the experiences of blind per- 
sons on first obtaining the use of their eyes. All objects appear to 
them at first as touching their eyes. Like the infant they can- 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE SENSES. 157 

not, with their eyes, distinguish between a flat drawing and a 
solid body. 

The extension which is seen hy persons who have recovered 
from blindness is extension of two dimensions. A solid cube or a 
solid sphere is taken by them to be simply a plane or a disc. A 
solid cube and a flat projection of the same are both taken to be 
flat and in every respect alike. The testimony is unanimous that 
objects seem very near to the eye. Some of these blind patients 
who, by a surgical triumph, have been made to see, in attempt- 
ing to reach objects that are extended to them, grasp behind 
them when held near to them, and when more remote can only 
touch them after repeated trials. Some are afraid to move lest 
they should in some way strike their body against objects which 
are really quite remote; after using their eyes for some time 
they acquire the ability to discriminate among objects as nenr 
and far. It is by the use of touch and sight together that the 
perceptions of distance and solidity arise. 

That theej^e and hand cooperate in infancy is a fact borne out 
by all observation and experiment. Observe the maneuvers of 
the young child during its first days, and you will be convinced 
that the eye and the hand soon learn to work together. As the 
eye of the infant at first rests fixedly in its socket, so his hands 
and arms at first hang uselessly from his shoulders or dangle 
helplessly at his side. There are no purposeful movements exe- 
cuted by the hands or arms just as there are no objects sought 
out or chosen by the eye upon which to fix its "point of regard." 
At first the child cannot grasp or hold an object. Notice him as 
he tries so hard to carry an object to his mouth — how^ clumsily 
the movements are made and how unsuccessful are his first at- 
tempts. He must learn to use his hands just as he must learn to 
direct the movement of his eyes. All these uses of the hand as of 
the eye are learned hj conscious attention. The earliest move- 
ments are made aimlessly ; after many unsuccessful experiments 
and trials, at first more failures than successes— he finally attains 
the stage of hand development at which he can be reasonably 
sure that the movement he desires so much to make can be sue- 



158 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

cessfiilly carried out. When he is finally successful in his attempt, 
how his every look and expression manifest the gratification he 
so certainly feels. 

It is interesting in this connection to note that the earliest ob- 
jects which attract the eyes of the infant are his hands and fingers. 
The hands are his first playthings. That they should be the first 
to receive his visual notice is but natural. They are always flit- 
ting to and fro, ever before his eyes and constantly passing back 
and forth in his narrow field of vision. At first, as you know, the 
infant is very short-sighted and can observe only the nearest 
objects. It seems that everything conspires to bring his hand 
under the direct notice of his eye for at least the first one hun- 
dred days of his life. 

The growth and development of the mind is marked by three 
characteristics: (1) There is a gradual but rapid progression 
from vague unlocalized impressions to distinct definite knowledge. 
(2) Operations become more perfect and are performed with more 
facility each time they are performed. There is a general truth 
underlying all development, either mental or physical, that our 
powers are improved and strengthened by exercise. (3) There is 
a progress from the simple to the more complex processes of 
mental activity. The law of all mental growth is that progress 
is always from the simple to the complex, from the concrete to 
the abstract. 

Not the least valuable of the conclusions of modern experi- 
mental and observational psychology is that there is a uniform 
order in which the faculties of the mind unfold or develop. At 
least four stages are observable. {\) The sensation stage. Be- 
fore we can know anything about ourselves or the outside world 
we must have some one of our sense organs acted upon. Sense 
must supply the raw material which the intellect afterwards 
assimilates and uses. (2) The perception stage. After a num- 
ber of sensations have been experienced they are grouped and 
classified according as they proceed from the same point in 
space and arise contemporaneously in time. The child gets the 
sensations of yellow, roundness, etc., and then comes to see 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE SENSES. 159 

that they proceed from the same point in space, and decides 
that the J' are the properties or qualities of one single object— the 
orange— which he now apprehends. (3) The stage of re-presenta- 
tion. Under this general term are to be included memory, im- 
agination and fancy. (4) The stage of rejection and reasoning. 
There is no break in this process of development. It is the same 
mind that acts in all these stages and finds expression in them. 
The distinction just made between the various stages of develop- 
ment must not be interpreted to mean that they are sharply de- 
fined epochs of growth. We simply mean to say that sensation 
must precede perception ; perception must precede memory and 
imagination ; and these in turn are developed before the mind's 
power to reason and reflect. 

Furthermore, every form of mental activity, and therefore 
mental growth, includes an act of attention more or less intense. 
Intellectual growth, as we have seen, is directly attendant upon 
intellectual activity. It is also directly related to the develop- 
ment of will power, for without the development of will there can 
be no prolonged concentrated effort of attention. Thus it is 
seen that the different phases of mental development are in a 
way interdependent. All mental development takes place by the 
cooperation of two sets of agencies. The first may be denomi- 
nated subjective factors, the second objective influences. By the 
subjective factors are meant the fundamental characteristics with 
which each individual mind is endowed at birth; e. g., native 
quickness, keenness, and the like. Also under these subjective fac- 
tors must be included the influence of heredity. Just as the child 
ie born with its father's eyes, and mother's nose or lips, so cer- 
tain intellectual features perdure in the shape of inherited mental 
tendencies. 

Under the objective influences must be included all those 
potencies which can be grouped under the general name of en- 
vironment. The natura7 environment would include the physical 
conditions by which the child is surrounded. (Socia/ environment 
is the term by which we designate the group of individuals with 
which one comes in intimate contact. Differences in one's sur- 



160 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

roundings, both physical and social, have a great deal to do 
with the differences in capacity and disposition which we meet in 
different persons. It is a fundamental fact that no two individ- 
uals ever come under exactly the same influences. Even twins, 
born into the same family at the same time, differ in their envir- 
onment from the very first. Added to this is the other fact, that 
owing to differences in their original capacities, the two will react 
quite differently^ to the same impressions. As life progresses, each 
new day presents new external influences which serve to differ- 
ence the two more and more. The school into which they enter, 
the different friendships, various commercial interests, and the 
like, all help to widen the gap between the two as far as their 
intellectual development is concerned. This is because the mind, 
just like the body, develops upon the food that is supplied and 
which it assimilates. Thus it is that no individual is independent 
of his surroundings. While we cannot claim that circumstances 
make the man, we are warranted in asserting that one's sur- 
roundings go a long way in determining the kind of person he is 
to become. The function of the teacher is to supply just that 
environment which will evoke the activities most essential to a 
high standard of mental, moral and physical development. If 
the child be deficient with respect to his visual powers, the 
teacher is called upon to stimulate these same powers. If the 
pupil exercise no imagination this faculty must also be aroused 
into activity by the teacher. After the teacher has a definite 
knowledge as to the powers and capacities of the pupil, it is his 
chief business and we might say, his only function, to surround 
his pupil with the environment that will best conduce to ideal 
rounded-out development. The ti-ue educator must ever keep 
before his mind's eye the ideal of a complete, strong and well de- 
veloped individual. As the first i-equisite in teaching is to know 
the child's mind, so the ultimate end of education is to prepare 
him for citizenship — to prepare him physically, intellectually and 
morally. 

As the mind unfolds, one of the chief characteristics of its 
development is the improvement and growth of the individual's 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE SENSES. 161 

sense capacity. Of course, the child has the same kind of eye, 
ear, etc., as is found in the full grown man, but his sensations 
are more vague, hazy, and less defined than those experienced 
in adult life. The growth of sense capacity involves two things : 
First, increased discriminative ability; second, the recognition 
of sensations by their color, tones or local signs. 

At first the child exercises no discriminative ability. His sen- 
sations are all confused with one another. That his discrimina- 
tive ability can be developed to a high degree is shown by the 
exceptional delicacy possessed by those who have occasion to 
employ a certain sense much more than other people. You have 
observed, no doubt, the fine tactile sensibility of the blind, the 
delicate muscular discrimination of a wood carver, the acute audi- 
tory sensitiveness of the skilled musician, and the keen gustatory 
perceptions of the professional tea taster in the customs serv- 
ice. The case of Julia Brace is pertinent in this connection. As 
a pupil of the school for the blind it was her function to sort the 
clothing of the several hundred inmates as it came from the 
laundry each week. The stupendous task of properly assorting 
these garments, numbering into hundreds, was done entirely upon 
the basis of a discrimination made by the sense of smell alone. 

As stated above, to train the senses means simply to exercise 
them so as to make them efiicient and accurate in observation 
and discovery. The first step in this training consists in the 
development of the discriminative ability of the various senses. 
By this means, quickness and accuracy of sensation is assured. 
It must also be remembered that distinct and sharplj' defined 
impressions are the first conditions of clear imagination, good 
memory, and precise thinking. If a child always confuses his 
sense-impressions — his sensations of color, taste, touch, form, 
etc. — his mind will always act in a confused manner whether it 
be in the function of memory, imagination or reasoning. How 
magnificently nature has provided for the little child in urging 
him to use his eyes, his ears, his hands and other observing pow- 
ers rather than take knowledge second handed from mother, 
nurse or teacher. 

L. P.-ll 



162 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

In this sense knowledge, the child comes face to face with the 
object. It makes an impression upon him. By this direct face 
to face contact, the child learns more than can ever be " crammed '' 
into him, by the intervention of another mind. We are fre- 
quently made decidedly weary by the phrase " to impart instruc- 
tion." Someuse it in claiming that the teacher's function is "#o 
impart instruction," as if knowledge could be done up in ready 
made packages and foisted upon the pupils! And yet there are 
still some persons abroad in the land who, posing as teachers, 
are actually endeavoring to impart knowledge. What ruination 
such pseudo-teachers have Wrought! How many child minds 
have been crippled and maimed because of such folly! The 
function of the teacher is simply to lead the child in his observa- 
tions and experiments. Teacher=Leader. The true teacher 
simply supplies the children with suitable objects for the exercise 
of their sense organs. Can you teach the child how to reason? 
No more than you can teach the child how to see. No more 
than you can teach the bird bow to fly. You must simply let it 
fly. Let the child learn to see as you would let the bird learn to 
fly. Train the senses of the child and the rest of his mental de- 
velopment will take care of itself. The child that ''senses" well 
will always reason accurately and remember correctly. A little 
boy was given four wooden balls in the kindergarten. When asked 
how many he had, he answered "four." But how do you know you 
have four? " Why I see two and I see two more and / thinked 
four," The successful teacher is the sense teacher— 1 almost said 
is the sensible teacher. Not that this work must needs be disor- 
ganized and unsystematic. The kindergarten occupations, such 
as paper-folding, modeling in clay, stick laying, the "sense" 
plays, and little science lessons are, if anything, systematic and 
orderly. The ability to educate the senses of the children whom 
he is endeavoring to lead, is in fact the true measure of the 
teacher's power and value as a real instructor. "Educate"— 
What does the word mean? Look at its etymology—" educo"-^ 
to lead from or out of. So the ti'ue teacher leads the child upward 
and onward in its path of development by training the senses— the 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE SENSES. 163 

windows of his infant mind— to give a true picture of the outside 
world in which he lives and moves and has his being. You know 
a good building requires not only good foundations but good 
materials. Suppose you had a foundation of the best Westerly 
granite and erected thereon a superstructure of thin, warped 
Cottonwood boards — would you have a good building? Now, 
our knowledge of the outside world is gained through the senses. 
This is the material from which our world is constructed. If the 
sense experiences are vague and indefinite, the knowledge based 
thereon will be vague and hazy. 



LESSON XIV. 
DEVELOPMENT OF THE SEN f^Es.— Continued. 

A SHORT time ago I visited what to me is very nearly an ideal 
Kindergarten. I merely give you one of its chapters — a very 
small one— culled from themorning exercises. It is simply one of 
those little stories with which Kindergarten lore abounds. The 
children had just come from their homes with expectant faces 
wreathed in gladsome smiles. Of course, the story loses much by 
being taken out of its local setting, and is reproduced here in merest 
outline. The eager, delighted expressions of the children as the 
story progressed cannot be reproduced. The whole group — 
twenty in all — are seated in a circle, every eye on the teacher who 
sits as one of the number. 

Teacher. "Now, children, how many of you have at home 
things 3'ou are very careful of and very fond of? What is j'ours, 
Stuart?" 

Thechildren givein turn various answers, telling of their favor- 
ite playthings and keepsakes. When each has been questioned, 
the teacher continues : 

Teacher. "Where do you keep these favorite things, these 
treasures of yours, keepsakes, as they are called, so that they 
will not be harmed?" 

Most of the children say in boxes of some sort, kept safe either 
by covers or by lock and key ; some say theirs have no covers of 
any kind. 

Teacher. " These little boxes of yours are your treasure boxes. 
When I was a little girl 1 had a treasure box which my father 
made me.'" 

Then follows a lively description in detail of this treasure box 
of hers, special stress being laid upon the neat, careful way in 
(1G4) 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE SENSES. 165 

which all the contents were laid in, each thiug having a little 
compartment or corner of its own. 

" Now, I am going to show you some treasure boxes different 
from any of yours or mine, some of Mother Nature's treasure 
boxes." 

She then shows them two wild cucumber pods, one of which 
was closed, the other riper and "unlocked" — open at one end. 
Shecalls their attention to the prickly green cover of the box, and 
shows how tightly and beautifully "locked" it is. Then passing 
them around that each child might see and handle the pods for 
themselves, she tells them to notice the soft white lining of the 
"unlocked" box, and to observe carefully the four brown seeds— 
the "treasures " — so neatly and orderly arranged by Mother Na- 
ture, in their little cells. Then the children are asked to guess 
other of Mother Nature's treasure boxes. One child has a peach 
in her lunch basket, and another an apple. These are both ex- 
amined with a view to discover the hidden treasures — the seeds 
they contained. Then the teacher continues: "Now, if you 
should ask the tree or the plant what it loves and cares for 
better than anything else, it would say — if it could talk to you — 
its little treasure box, because all through the summer, it has 
been taking in the sunshine, and drinking in the water only for 
the sake of this little seed — its baby — to make it strong and 
healthy, so that it could grow on after the mother plant had 
died. Now, I want each one of you to bring me to-morrow one 
of Mother Nature's treasure boxes." 

So the talk closed for that morning, but was taken up and car- 
ried on successive mornings after that, the teacher calling atten- 
tion to the different kinds of boxes in which the seeds were kept, 
the variety and the form of the seeds themselves, the part played 
by the wind in scattering them, as, for example, the milkweed, 
the dandelion and the clematis, the bird's share in this work, etc. 
Ever since this story was first told them, and it is now many weeks 
ago, the children have continued to bring to the teacher "treas- 
ure boxes" of all sorts and kinds, not even forgetting them when 
they were told later the stories about the leaves and began their 



166 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

collection of thoee. With the specimens brought in, the teacher 
has made a chart, and the feathery seeds of thistle, clematis, 
milkweed and the like make a very ornamental border for the 
walls of their schoolroom. 

Now is this not a better method of procedure for both the 
child's present pleasure and future mental growth, and does it 
not make him a more valuable man or woman, a better citizen, 
than the exercise the writer has seen time and again in one of the 
primary departments of our common schools, viz., where the 
task prescribed for the child was that the word "cat " should be 
written neatly on the slate forty times ? At best, with the latter 
method, the mind will have absolutely no power of expanding 
from within; it can be no more than a mere passive recipient, 
able only to discharge the undigested, unassimilated mass of 
facts which has once been stuffed into it, paralyzing its very spon- 
taneity in its endeavors to make new discoveries and gain new 
facts; in other words, no real knowledge is gained. That educa- 
tion is best which seeks, not to impart knowledge, but to develop 
mental force. 

I am reminded in this connection of an interesting little allu- 
sion made by Thomas Wentworth Higginson in his delightful 
little essay on " Processes." It is an account of a schoolboy who 
was found in great distress over his lessons. When asked what 
the peculiar difficulty was, he stated this arduous problem : 

"If John has two red apples, and Charlie has two, how many 
red apples have they both together? " 

" Is that hard? " was asked. 

"Very hard," the boy said, sadly. 

"But surely, my boy, you already know that two and two 
make four; there can be no trouble about that? " 

"Of course not," was the pathetic response. -'Of course I 
know that well enough. But the process ! It's the process that 
wears me out." 

And do not the facts which can be observed as we visit the 
majority of the public schools lend force to this piece of infantine 
sarcasm ? Hosts of things that come so naturally to the child's 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE SENSES. 167 

mind that they might really be taken for granted, are virtually 
taken from him and then offered to him again in such a cut 
and dried formal shape, smothered under technical definitions 
and "processes," that he is almost made unconscious that he 
ever knew them. Not only is this true of arithmetic, though I 
believe that this is the worst taught of any subject of the com- 
mon school curriculum. Is it not true that many children who 
have grown up under educated influences write better English — 
certainly more idiomatic and often more correct — before study- 
ing English grammar than afterwards? They write as they 
speak, by ear, and the complex rules confuse more than they help. 
Of all modern innovations that have grown up, the most im- 
portant is the systematic culture of the powers of observation. 
As Herbert Spencer so tersely puts it: "After long ages of blind- 
ness men are at last seeing that the spontaneous activity of the 
observing faculties in children has a meaning and a use." To 
this awakening is attributed the well-conceived but ill-conducted 
system of object lessons. It can be said without fear of success- 
ful contradiction that if the education of the senses be neglected, 
all subsequent education will partake of a vagueness, haziness, 
drowsiness or inefficiency which will never admit of cure. The 
systematic development of the senses makes a place for — yes, 
makes absolutely essential — the object lesson. By this is meant 
the simple presentation to the pupil's senses of some natural ob- 
ject, e.g., a piece of coal, an ear of corn, a hickory nut, some 
animal or plant, etc. In carrying out the object lesson appeal 
should be made to more than one sense. You are not "cultivat- 
ing the observing powers" when you appeal to the eye alone. 
You must appeal to as many of the senses as possible, for each 
sense gives to the mind a different picture of the outside world. 
For example, the cavity left by an extracted tooth feels larger 
when the tongue touches it than when seen with the eye. Not 
long ago the writer observed some children cracking hickory nuts 
on the curbstone. He happened to have in his pocket some 
hickory nuts which were quite a good deal larger than those pos- 
sessed by the children. Each child was told to close his eyes and 



168 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

one of the large nuts was placed in his hand. Not one of the five 
children could tell that it was a nut by the sense of touch alone. 
All had to depend upon vision, though they had all been observ- 
ing hickory nuts with their touch sense. These children were 
deficient in their powers of tactile observation. To induce in the 
child a well rounded-out development, it is necessary to train all 
the senses; the ear should not be trained at the expense of the 
eye, or the eye at the expense of the hand, etc., else the child be- 
comes one-sided in his development. The value of the object les- 
son depends for its efficiency as a mind developer upon the extent 
to which all the observing powers of the class are put to use and 
called into exercise. AboAe all things the teacher should never 
tell the pupils about the object, but should ever stimulate them 
to observe — see, touch, taste, hear, smell, etc., for themselves. 
A daily walk with a good observer will do more to develop the 
faculties than the most elaborate of school exercises where learn- 
ing is by rule. Exhaustive, painstaking, thorough observation 
is an element in all true professional success, be the person a phy- 
sician, engineer, teacher or preacher; be he lawyer, merchant or 
railroad conductor. 

A wholesome change that has attended the introduction of ob- 
servational studies in our schools is the growing desire to make 
the acquisition of knowledge a pleasant rather than a painful ex- 
ercise. The effort to make all education interesting is indeed a 
child of the present. As long as the acquisition of knowledge is 
made to be habitually distasteful, as long as it is a "grind '' — 
to use the vernacular of the college campus — so long will there be 
a prevailing tendency to discontinue it when free from the co- 
ercive restraint of parents and teachers. 

No man has investigated the subject of educational method 
with such keen insight, with such excellent tact, and with such a 
far-seeing, judicial mind as has Mr. Herbert Spencer. His book 
on "Education" testifies to his right to be called the father of 
modern educational reform. We cannot forbear making a rather 
lengthy quotation from him at this point. It should be inefface- 
ably stereotyped on the brain of every parent and teacher: 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE SENSES. 169 

"See the way in which, by this method, the intelligent mother 
conducts her lessons step by step; she familiarizes her little boy 
with the names of the simpler attributes, hardness, softness, 
color, taste, size, etc., in doing- which she finds him eagerly help 
by bringing this to show her that it is red, and the other to 
make her feel that it is hard, as fast as she gives him words for 
these properties. Each additional property as she draws his at- 
tention to it in some fresh thing which he brings to her, she takes 
care to mention in connection with those he already knows, so 
that by the natural tendency to imitate he may get into the 
habit of repeating them one after the other. Gradually as there 
occur cases in which he omits to name one or more of the proper- 
ties he has become acquainted with, she introduces the practice of 
asking him whether there is not something more that he can tell 
her about the thing he has got. Probably he does not under- 
stand. After letting him puzzle awhile she tells him, perhaps 
laughing at him a little for his failure. A few recurrences of this 
and he perceives what is to be done. When next she says she 
knows something more about the object than he has told her, his 
pride is roused; he looks at it intently; he thinks overall that 
he has heard ; and the problem being easy presently finds it out. 
He is full of glee at his success, and she sympathizes with him. 
In common with every child he delights in the discovery of his 
powers. He wishes for more victories, and goes in quest of more 
things about which to tell her. As his faculties unfold, she adds 
quality after quality to his list, progressing from hardness and 
softness to roughness and smoothness, from color to polish, from 
simple bodies to composite ones — thus constantly complicating 
the problem as he gains competence; constantly taxing his at- 
tention and memory to a greater extent; constantly maintaining 
his interest by supplying him with new impressions such as his 
mind can assimilate, and constantly gratifying him by conquests 
over such small difficulties as he can master. In doing this she 
is manifestly but following out that spontaneous process that 
was going on during a still earlier period, simply aiding self-evo- 
lution; and in aiding it in the mode suggested by the boy's in- 



170 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSTCHOLOOT. 

stinctive behavior to her. Manifestly, too, the course she is 
pursuing is the one best calculated to establish a habit of ex- 
haustive observation, which is the professed aim of these lessons. 
To tell a child this and^^iOTr it the other is not to teach it how to 
observe, but to make it a mere recipient of another's observa- 
tions; a proceeding which weakens rather than strengthens its 
powers of self-instruction, which deprives it of the pleasures re- 
sulting from successful activity, which presents this all-attract- 
ive knowledge under the aspect of formal tuition, and which 
thus generates that indifference and even disgust with which 
these object lessons are not infrequently regarded." 

The object lesson, to serve its true function, should be carried 
on in quite a different manner from that customarily made use 
of. The real value of the object lesson depends entirely on the 
extent to which the observing powers of the pupils have been em- 
ployed. The teacher must never tell what the object is or of 
what it consists, but simply stimulate the child to observe for 
himself. Now in the first place the attention of the child should 
be directed to the object itself with its manifold qualities, and 
not to the general truth which the object lesson is intended to 
illustrate. Remember always that the true order of mental pro- 
cedure is ever from the concrete to the abstract. The mind must 
be introduced to principles only through numerous examples. 
Education can only proceed naturally, therefore most success- 
fully, when this law is followed. As teachers, then, in using the 
object lesson, seek first of all an interesting object with many 
qualities which are reasonably apparent rather than deeply 
hidden. Then when this is done, seek to interest the child in the 
object and the object only. Do this by having its qualities 
named one at a time. Also it is important to use an object in its 
natural setting so far as possible. Don't use a picture of a cat 
when you can get alive cat,any more than you would attempt 
to teach the application of the table of weights and measures in 
your arithmetic class without using an actual pair of scales such 
as the grocer or butcher employs. The true teacher will teach by 
reference to the concrete and the concrete alone as far as possi- 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE SENSES. 171 

ble. In " Dry Measure" he will use the actual measures which 
are employed in daily business transactions. In teaching 
"Liquid Measure" he will "beg, borrow or steal" the concrete 
measuring tins such as his milkman uses, and so on. In every 
possible manner he will make use of the object lesson in teaching. 
Who ever heard of a successful teacher of the interesting subject 
of physics who depended on the text-book alone. It has been 
attempted by many who aspire to be teachers, but a kind Provi- 
dence and American practical common sense is rapidly deci- 
mating the number of this ilk. I can remember when a boy of 
such a would-be teacher. Our class work in ph3'sics consisted 
chiefly in questions and answers on the text— a tedious, dry 
book called by the very comprehensive and indefinite name of 
"Natural Philosophy." The usual order of questions was some- 
thing as follows : 

Teacher. Where does the lesson begin, Nellie? 

Ans. On page 97, near the middle. 

Teacher. Where does it end, Willie? 

Ads. I don't remember the page. 

Teacher. You stupid boy, not to remember the page on which 
the lesson ends. You may stay in at recess. Edna, you tell 
where the lesson ends. 

Ans. At the fourth line from the bottom on page 105. 

Teacher. The entire class will now repeat in concert the page 
on which the lesson ends. Loud, now, so Willie can hear. 

This is now done and one-third of the time is already gone. 
Then follows a cut and dried recitation on the interesting subject 
of electricity — on such themes as the induction coil, magnet, elec- 
tric motor, production of heat by electricity, electric light, with- 
out a single illustration or piece of apparatus, when the teacher 
might have constructed a crude electric battery and with glass 
or sealing wax, a silk handkerchief, or a piece of flannel, or at 
least with a cheap rubber comb and a black cat, shown us some 
of the manifestations and phenomena of this force so fascinatingly 
interesting to every child. But, no! Every word in the class 
was utterly unmeaning because divorced from everything practi- 



172 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

cal. Furthermore, at the same time that the writer was slowly 
grinding his way in this treadmill class so distasteful to him, he 
was engaged at home in studying a book handed to him by a 
real benefactor — the title of the book being " Boys" Own Book of 
Home Experiments." Portions of the book were read eagerly 
every night and interesting but simple experiments performed in 
the order indicated. Oh, how intensely interesting those winter 
nights were! With what avidity were its treasure pages read 
and devoured ! How it took preference over and above all to- 
boggan parties and sleigh rides, while even my new "Barney and 
Berry " club-skates lost their charm. But do you know that all 
this time I was doing this supplementary reading and perform- 
ing these experiments on Light, Heat, Sound and Electricity, 
the thought never once occurred to me that the subject which oc- 
cupied me at home so assiduously and industriously was at all 
related to the course on "Natural Philosoph}^," which was being 
given in school. It never, for a single instant, seemed that they 
belonged to the same regime. And still further, one day the 
writer, proud and delighted with his success in constructing an 
electrophorus which worked perfectlj', took it to school to show 
his mates, only to have his so-called teacher not merely ridicule 
it himself, but take it to his desk and make it the object of ridi- 
cule on the part of the other pupils, by holding it up before the 
whole school and sneering at it with words of keen-edged sar- 
casm. Of course, it was crudely constructed— being made of two 
tin pans, surreptitiously secured, together with sealing wax, from 
the pantry, and insulated with a cheap broken glass pestle kindly 
supplied 1)3^ a good-hearted druggist; but it did the woi± desired 
and did it well, illustrating some of the most fundamental phe- 
nomena of electricity. Can you wonder that the writer, from 
that day had no respect, much less love for that teacher? But 
you interject—" Oh, well, that was fifteen or twenty years ago! " 
Well, so it was, but this particular teacher is not dead yet, and is 
still "imparting instruction" in the same old way. If he were 
the only one of this class, there would be much cause for congrat- 
ulation, but sad to say this family of pseudo-teachers is a large 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE SENSES. 173 

one and holds to life with exceeding tenacity. Not two weeks 
ago in a school, which its patrons, like true patriotic citizens, call 
the "best in the state," the following occurrence took place un- 
der the writer's own observation. 

The class was reciting from some little, inferior work on "Nat- 
ural Historj'.'' The lesson was about the grasshopper. One bo}'- 
discovered on a live specimen what he thought were the organs of 
hearing. The book also made the claim that grasshoppers hear. 
But an enterprising little fellow had read the excellent article in 
the Encyclopaedia Britannica and found it stated that grasshop- 
pers do not hear. At the same time he wrote letters to one or 
two professional entomologists, who concurred in the latter 
opinion. Thus fortified he approached his teacher in a respectful 
manner and told her of his discovery. Instead of congratulating 
him on his "find" and commending him for earnest endeavor, 
this particular teacher severely reprimanded him for disagreeing 
with the book used by the class. 

How refreshing it is to turn from such instances to those 
schools where the pupils are led in their observations by a skillful, 
practical teacher to see the essence and meaning of things. Less 
than a year ago I visited just such a school. It was in a town of 
3,000 inhabitants made up principally of horny handed toilers 
and their families. The teacher of the high school was a self- 
made man but had the gift^ to teach and teach clearly. His class 
in physics was studying eleetricity,and the boys would have me, 
though a stranger, stay after school to see an electric motor 
which they had themselves constructed with the sympathetic in- 
terest of their teacher. In the class no text-book was used, 
though ten or a dozen, by different authors, were on the table oi 
their rudely constructed laboratory. By enlisting the sympathy 
and enthusiastic interest of his pupils, the teacher had awakened 
the community so that it was an easy matter to secure for the 
work in physics alone about |300 worth of apparatus, besides the 
considerable number of homemade instruments constructed by 
the teacher and his pupils. Is it not better that the average 
schoolboy know one single concrete fact in physics, c. g., how 



174 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

to wire an electric bell, than for him to be able to recite Steele, 
Gage, Norton, or Quackenbos by the yard and hour in an un- 
meaning manner ? 

But this may be a digression. It may, however, be pertinent to 
reiterate that first of all the object itself must attract the atten- 
tion of the pupils of the class, and not the general relations and 
principles which the object is supposed to repre8ent,and which can 
by means of the higher powers of reasoning be deduced from it. To 
illustrate what is here meant, a case in point is cited. A teacher 
was using a squirrel as an object lesson. Unfortunately it was not 
a real living squirrel but a well executed picture instead. The 
teacher laid especial stress upon the qualities belonging to squir- 
rels that are similar to certain qualities in children and called atten- 
tention to similar relatiouships.but failed to pay any definite atten- 
tion to the squirrel in and of itself. Consequently when one of the 
brightest pupils was asked the size of the squirrel, the reply was 
given: "About so big," holding her hands out almost three feet 
apart. On further questioning it was found that she seriously 
thought that a squirrel was "As bigas a little boy or girl." Itis 
decidedly better to lay the emphasis upon the object itself in the 
first stages of this form of teaching. Thefollowingisacaserightin 
line with this suggestion. A teacher, who had become thoroughly 
tired of some of her pupils saying that butter grew on ice, or was 
made of eggs, or grew on butter cups, took the right method to 
clear their minds of such notions when with a little toy churn she 
made a thimbleful of butter at school in the presence of her pupils 
as an object lesson. 

The object lesson could be extended to every department of 
instruction and should cover a wide range of facts. Do not limit 
yourself to the contents of home or schoolyard, but include the 
forest and field, the river and brook, the seashore and stone 
quarry. For the purpose of extending the range of observation 
for children, we hope that the German custom of school 
children, accompanied by their teacher, taking long walks into 
the country, will soon be adopted here in our own land. The 
trustees and school directors may tell you it is a waste of time 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE SENSES. 175 

for you to take a walk through the woods and across the fields 
for the purpose of observing; and calling the attention of the chil- 
dren to the birds and insects, flowers and trees, leaves and peb- 
bles, but by cautious studied effort you may succeed in effecting 
an arrangement whereby you are enabled to bring the children 
into face to face contact with Mother Nature at least once a week. 
If you succeed your pupils will, in the years to come, rise and call 
you blessed. But if the powers over you insist that it is far bet- 
ter to read about "Ann's hat," "Ned's top," and "Tom's nag," 
then do the best you can by claiming, each year, an outing day, 
e. g., the first of May— to be an annual field day. By and by you 
will, with the cooperation of other wide awake teachers, convince 
the patrons that training the powers of observation in early child- 
hood is more important than a knowledge of all the capitals and 
their locations, better for both the child's mind and body than 
their usual problems in primary arithmetic, and infinitely more 
valuable than their ability to name the presidents in the order 
of their election, or whether 1111 men were killed in a certain 
battle, or only 1110. You can, however, do this much and there 
is no excuse for you if you do not dp it. You can insist on your 
pupils bringing specimens of leaves, flowers, bugs, rocks, fish, and 
the like to the school for the purpose of making possible a nat- 
ural history collection of the animal and vegetable life of the 
community in which they live. Every teacher should have a 
school museum made up almost entirely of interesting objects 
that the pupils have collected. 

The object lesson can possibly aim at nothing other than the 
trainingof theobserving powers themselves. But as schools are at 
present constructed, the best trainingof the observing powers lies 
outside the range of school exercises. Higgin son again in his own 
inimitable way speaks to the point here. " In the study of natural 
history I have heard exercises with ' object-lessons ' that seemed 
to be especially contrived to stultify the human intellect; and this 
especially in some normal schools, where one young pupil stands 
up before the others, making believe that she knows everything, 
and her classmates sit before her making believe that they know 



176 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

nothing. It is necessarily all a form and a 'process.' They go 
through the questions which the children are supposed to ask 
about the object; and, of course, if the real children do riot ask 
the right questions, they must be taught to ask them. They must 
wish to know what they ought to wish to know, not what they 
really desire. When the young teacher faces real children, there- 
fore, instead of studying their actual minds, she proceeds on a 
method previously arranged. 

Perhaps it is a stuffed bird which she holds up before them. 
She says, as she has been taught to say, ' Children, what is this? ' 
One boy shouts, 'It's a jay.' Another says, almost simulta- 
neously, ' It's a blue-jay.' Then the teacher explains to them that 
this is not the proper answer at all. Thej' must answer first, 'A 
bird,' and then must go on, with due surprise, to the information 
that it has two legs and has wings ; and by and by, after plenty 
of systematic preparation, they may proceed to the fact that 
the bird is a jay, and even a blue-jay — all this being something 
which they knew perfectly well alreadj', but must not be permitted 
to recognize in any disorderly or unmethodical form. The con- 
sequence is that the bright and observing children, who ought 
to be leaders of the class, are deadened and discouraged, and all 
the laurels go to the unobservant and stupid, who never noticed 
a bird in their lives, and would not do anything so unseemly as to 
pronounce any stuffed object a blue-jay until the teacher had led 
them up to it by a logical and irresistible process." The training 
of the child's observing powers is, at least, the chapter in education 
in which the parent can cooperate with the teacher to the best ad- 
vantage. In seeking to cultivate the observing powers of your 
pupil by use of the object lesson and other means, you accomplish 
four things for him, each one of which is vitally important. 

(1) You make his knowledge more accunite and clearly defined. 

(2) You make his knowledge more comprehensive and complete. 

(3) You develop his mental power and intellectual capacity. 

(4) You make his ac(piisition of knowledge pleasant and de- 
lightful because you follow the natural order— '^ first the blade, 
then the ear, then the full corn in the ear." 



LERROX XV. 

THE CONTENTS OF A CHILU's MIND ON ENTERING SCHOOL. 

More than twenty years ago an association of teachers in 
Germany, at Berlin, undertook to investigate the stock of ideas 
which children possess at the time of entering school.* 

This was done largely with a view to discover the influence of 
environment upon mental growth and it was actually found that 
the city children not only differed widely from those of the 
smaller towns and country villages, but also that children living 
in different wards of the same city possessed quite a different 
stock of ideas, due of course chiefly to environment. For a long- 
time previous to this it was observed that country children who 
entered the city schools behind the children of the same age, 
readily caught up with them. This was found to be due chiefly 
to the fact that the methods of primary instruction were better 
adapted to country than to city children. It was found that a 
large mass of children actually go through the world from day 
to day without observing the most conspicuous objects, such as 
important monuments, public squares, gardens and parks near 
their homes and schoolhouse. When asked what mountain 
(Berg) they had ever seen, all the girls in an upper grammar grade 
said "Pfeffenherg," the name of a beer hall near by. Everyone 
thought of a " Berg'" as a place of amusement and not as a nat- 
ural object. What vague notions their geography lessons must 
have brought to them. Nearly half the hojB and more than half 
the girls on entering school had never seen, to know by name, any 
nf these three most conspicuous objects in Berlin: Lustgarten, 
Unter den Linden, the Brandenburg Gate. Space will not permit 

*For complete report see Vorstellungskreis der Berliner Kinder heim Eintritt in 
die Schuler (Beiliu Stadtisches Jahrbuch 1870, pp. 59-77). 

L. P.— 12 (1T7) 



178 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

of the table being; printed here in detail— only the more general 
results. Thus, for example, out of ten thousand children, 9,026 
had an idea of dwellings — what they are and for what used; 
7,435 of this number were familiar with the significance of the 
concept "two;" but only 5,853 (a few more than half) knew 
what " fish " meant; onl^- 3,646 had any notion of the meaning 
of the term "forest;" the "King's Palace" was clear to 2,886 ; 
2,078 understood the term " lake," while " river " was known to 
but 1,122. The names of 75 objects were given in the inquiries 
made of each pupil. Of three-fourths of these, more girls are 
ignorant than boys, and those who had not been in Kinder- 
garten were decidedly more ignorant than those who had. The 
girls, however, clearly excelled in the following concepts: Name 
and vocation of the father, the thunder shower, rainbow, hail, 
potato field, moon, square, circle, oak, dew and Botanical Gar- 
den. Of the whole group of children (10,000) the sphere was 
known to 76%, the cube to 69%, the square to 54%, the circle to 
49%, the triangle to 41%. Itwasfoimd that girls excelled in space 
concepts and boys in numbers. Girls excelled in ideas of family, 
house and thunder-storms; children inmates of houses of refuge 
and reform schools had more ideas than children coming from 
homes; while those from the Kindergarten excelled both the 
other groups in their fund of information. It is a burning shame 
that the child's most used and threadbai'e question — a veritable 
"chestnut " — "What is that? " should be answered less frequently 
at home than elsewhere. 

Dr. Karl Lange insists, and not without reason, that a child 
six years of age has absolutely learned far more than a student 
learns during his university course. "These six years have been 
full of advancement like unto the six days of creation." Lange 
himself made some investigations upon the subject of environ- 
ment as influencing mental "capital." The subjoined table was 
based upon observations of 500 children in the city schools 
of Planen and 300 children in the country schools. The fig- 
ures given indicate the per cent, of those having the concept 
mentioned. 



THE CONTENTS OF A CHILD'S MIND. 



179 



Table Shoming in Per Cents the Ntmber of Children out of 500 
THAT Possess the Idea Here Mentioned. 



The Concept or Idea. 



Citv 


Couutrv 


Children. 


Children 


18 


42 


23 


58 


84 


82 


72 


83 


51 


86 


71 


82 


48 


74 


63 


86 


18 


57 


64 


92 


28 


63 


79 


80 


55 


62 


86 


92 


50 


49 



1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

7 

8 

9 

10 

11 

12 

13 

14 

15 



Seen the sun rise 

Seen the sun set 

Seen the moon and stars 

Seen fish swim 

Been to a pond 

Been to a brook or river 

Been to a high hill or mountain ... 

Been in a forest 

Knows an oak 

Seen a corn or wheat field 

Knows that bread comes from grain 

Seen a shoemaker at work 

Seen a carpenter at work 

Seen a mason at work 

Been in a church 



Only 43 per cent of the city children had ever been to any 
town or village. Their knowledge of colors was as follows, be- 
ginning with those best and ending with those least known: 
black, white, red, green, blue, yellow. The ignorance of city chil- 
dren shows the practical utility of frequent school excursions. 

It is interesting to know that in Germany it is more common 
than in our country to teach school geography by beginning with 
the schoolhouse and yard, the streets of the city, and then gradu- 
ally widen out into the world. Holiday walks conducted by teach- 
ers for educational purposes are also more common, we are sorry 
to admit, than here in America. 

Of much more value than this work of investigation done in 
Berlin are the painstaking endeavors undertaken in this country 
by that leader of educational thought and action, President G. 
Stanley Hall, of Clark University. The work was done in Boston 
in 1880 with the assistance of Mrs. Quincey Shaw and Miss Pin- 
gree, aided by four teachers. It is needless to add that this work 
was carried out with the greatest care and thoroughness.* 



* For this interesting report In detail see Article III, in " Pedagogical Seminary," 
June, 1S91, edited by G. Stanley Hall, of which our account is a r68um4. 



180 



PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 



The following table was based on observations made upon two 
hundred Boston children shortly after entering school in the fall. 
The endeavor was made to select pupils of average capacity — 
neither the prodigy nor the dullard — the child of average intelli- 
gence who came from homes not representing either of the ex- 
tremes of culture or ignorance. 

In 1883 Supt. J. M. Greenwood, of the Kansas City Schools, 
tested 678 children of the lowest primary grade, of whom 47 
were colored, with some of the same questions used by Dr. Hall 
in his Boston tests. It should be observed that the tests on the 
Kansas City children were made in March, April and May, or 
after seven months of school life. 

The comparisons that may be made between the school chil- 
dren of these two American cities, with respect to their " stock of 
ideas"— their fund of knowledge— on entering school, areintensely 
interesting. An actual basis is here supplied for our discussions 
with reference to the influence of environment upon children, 
especially in their earlier days. The Kansas City children have, 
on the whole, more active observing powers than do the Boston 
children. 



Name of the Object of Conception. 



Per Cent, of Children 
Ignorant of it. 



In 
Boston. 



Beehive . 
Crow . . . . 
Bluebird 

Ant 

Squirrel . 
Snail ... 
Robin.. . 
Sparrow. 

Sheep 

Bee 

Frog 

Pig 

Chicken 



80 

77 

72.5 

65.5 

63 

62 

60.5 

57.5 

54 

52 

50 

47.5 

33.5 



In Kansas City. 



White. Colored. 



59.4 
47.3 

2\.5 
15 

30 6 

3 5 

7.27 

2.7 

1.7 

,5 



59 

19 
4 

10 
4 



THE CONTENTS OF A CHILD S MIND. 



181 



Name of the Object of Conception. 



Per Cent, of Children 
Ignorant of it. 



In 
Boston. 



In Kansas City. 



White. Colored. 



Worm 

Butterfly 

Cow 

Growing Wheat 

Elm Tree 

Oak Tree 

Pine 

Maple 

Growing Moss 

Growing Strawberries 

Growing Clover 

Growing Beans 

Growing Blueberriies 

Growing Blackberries 

Growing Corn 

Chestnut Tree 

Planted a seed 

Peaches on a tree 

Growing Potatoes 

Growing Buttercups 

Growing Rose 

Growing Grapes. 

Where are the child's ribs? 

Where are the child's lungs?. . . . 

Where is the child's heart? 

Where is the child's wrist? 

Where are the child's ankles?.. . 

Where is the child's waist? 

Where are the child's hips? 

Where are the child's knuckles? 
Where are the child's elbows?. . 

Knows right and left hand 

Knows cheek 

Knows forehead 

Knows throat 

Knows knee 

Knows stomach 

Dew 

What season it is 

Seen hail. 

Seen rainbow 

Seen sun rise 

Seen sun set 

Seen clouds 



22 

20.5 

18.5 

92.5 

91.5 

87 

87 

83 

81.5 

78.5 

74 

71.5 

67.5 

66 

65.5 

64 

63 

61 

61 

55.5 

54 

53 

90.5 

81 

80 

70.5 

65.5 

52.5 

45 

36 

25 

21.5 

18 

15 

13.5 

7 

6 
78 

75.5 
73 
65 

56.5 
53.5 
35 



.5 
.5 
5.2 
23.4 
52.4 
62.2 
65.6 
31 2 
30.7 
26.5 



13.6 

26 

18.5 

3 

14.1 
14 
14 

2.9 

1.5 

1 
.5 
.5 

1.1 

1.6 
27.2 
39.1 
31.8 
13.6 
10.3 
16.6 
19.5 

7.3 



10 



182 



PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 



Name of the Object of Couceptiou. 



Seen stars 

Seen moon 

Conception of an island 

Conception of a beach 

Conception of woods 

Conception of river 

Conception of pond 

Conception of hill 

Conception of brook 

Conception of triangle 

Conception of square 

Conception of circle 

The number five 

The number four 

The number three 

Seen watchmaker at work 

Seen file . 

Seen plow 

Seen spade 

Seen hoe 

Seen bricklayer at work 

Seen shoemaker 

Seen axe 

Knows green by name 

Knows blue by name 

Knows yellow by name 

Knows red by name 

That leathern things come from animals 

Maxim or proverb 

Origin of cotton things 

What flour is made of 

Ability to knit 

What bricks are made of 

Shape of the world 

Origin of woolen things 

Never attended kindergarten 

Never been in bathing 

Can tell no rudiment of a story 

Not know wooden things are from trees. 

Origin of butter 

Origin of meat (from animals) 

Cannot sew 

Cannot strike a given musical tone 

Cannot beat time regularly 



Per Cent, of Children 
I(inoraiil of It. 



In 
Boston. 



U 

7 
87.5 
55.5 
53.5 
48 
40 
28 
15 
92 
56 
35 
28.5 
17 

8 
68 
65 
64.5 
62 
61 

44.5 
25 
12 
15 
14 
13.0 

9 
93.4 
91.5 
90 
89 
88 
81 
70 
69 
67.5 
64.5 
58 
55 
50.5 
48 
47.5 
40 
39 



In Kansas City. 



3 

26 



13.4 
23.6 
19.3 

6.7 

8.3 

23.4 



White. Colored. 



53 



53 



72 

15 
57 

53 
47 
44 



12 



12 



THE CONTENTS OF A CHILD'S MIND. 



183 





Per Cent, of Children 
Itjnorant of it. 


Name of the Object of Conceptiou. 


In 
Boston. 


111 Kansas City. 


' 


White. Colored. 


Have never saAi-ed pennies at home 

Never been in country 

Can repeat no verse 


36 
35.5 

28 
20.5 


8.2 
13.1 
20 

4 


12.7 
19 
42 5 


Source of milk 





Name of the Object of 
Conception. 



Beehive 

Ant 

Squirrel 

Snail 

Robin 

Sheep 

Bee 

Frog 

Pig 

Chicken 

Worm 

Butterfly 

Hen 

Cow 

Growing clover 

Growing corn 

Growing potatoes.. . 
Growing buttercups. 

Growing rose « 

Growing dandelion. . 

Growing apples 

Ribs 

Ankles 

Waist 

Hips 

Knuckles 

Elbow 

Right from left hand 

Wrist 

Cheek 



Per Cent, 
of Ignor- 
ance in 
150 Girls. 



81 
59 
69 
69 
69 
67 
46 
53 
45 
35 
21 
14 
15 
18 
59 
58 
55 
50 
48 
44 
16 
88 
58 
53 
50 
27 
19 
20 
21 
10 



Percent, 
of Ignor- 
ance in 
150 Boys. 



10 
60 
50 
78 
44 
47 
32 
38 
27 
21 
17 
16 
14 
12 
68 
50 
54 
51 
48 
42 
16 
92 
52 
52 
47 
27 
32 
8 
34 
12 



Percent, 
of Ignor- 
ance in 
50 Foreign 
Children. 



86 
74 
66 
92 
64 
62 
52 
54 
38 
32 
26 
26 
18 
20 
84 
60 
62 

m 

60 
62 
18 
98 
62 
64 
72 
34 
36 
14 
44 
14 



Percent, 
of Ignor- 
ance in 50 
American 
Children. 



70 
38 
42 
72 
86 
40 
32 
35 
26 
16 
16 
8 
2 
6 
42 
68 
44 
40 
42 
34 
12 
82 
40 
32 
31 
12 
16 
20 
9 
14 



Percent, 
of Ignor- 
ance in 

64 Kinder- 
garten 

Children. 



61 
26 
43 
62 
29 
40 
26 
35 
22 
22 

9 

9 
14 
10 
29 
32 
34 
31 
83 
31 

5 
68 
38 
36 
24 
23 
12 

4 
19 

4 



1«4 



PRACTICAL LESSORS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 



Name of the Object of 
Conception. 



Forehead 

Throat 

Knee 

Dew 

What season it is. 

Hail 

Rainbow 

Sunrise 

Sunset . 

Star 

Island 

Beach 

Woods 

River 

Pond 

Hill 

The number five. 
The number four 
The number three 



Percent. 


Percent. 


of Iguor- 


of Ignor- 


auce in 


auce 111 


150 Girls. 


150 Boys. 


10 


11 


10 


18 


4 


5 


64 


63 


59 


50 


75 


61 


59 


61 


71 


53 


47 


49 


15 


10 


74 


78 


82 


49 


46 


36 


38 


44 


31 


34 


23 


22 


26 


16 


15 


10 


7 


6 



Percent, 
of Ignor- 
ance ill 
50 Foreign 

Children. 



Percent. 

of Ignor- 
ance in 50 
American 
Children. 



12 
14 
2 
92 
68 
84 
70 
70 
52 
12 
84 
60 
46 
62 
42 
30 
22 
16 
12 



10 
16 
10 
52 
48 
52 
38 
36 
32 

4 
64 
34 
32 
12 
24 
12 
24 
14 

8 



Percent, 
of Ignor- 
ance In 

64 Kinder- 
garten 

Children. 



7 
14 

2 
57 
41 
53 
38 
53 
29 

7 
55 
32 
27 
13 
28 
19 
12 



The tables speak for themselves and are submitted here with- 
out comment. Especially noticeable is the fact that Kindergar- 
ten cljildren without regard to nationality have the advantage 
over all others. Most of these children ca me from a charity Kinder- 
garten, so that superior intelligence and home environments can 
hardly be assumed. Thirty teachers were questioned as to the dif- 
ference between children from Kindergartens and other children. 
Four said no difference was observable, while all the rest thought 
them better fitted for work, noting especially their better com- 
mand of language, superior skill with hand and slate, excelling 
in quickness, power of observation, number work, singing, neat- 
ness, politeness, freedom from excessive bashfulness and, best of 
all, love of work. Some thought them more restless and talka- 
tive, and one complained because " children from the kindergar- 
tens always want to know the reason why of everything." 

The high rate of ignorance exhibited in the table is surprising 



THE CONTENTS OF A CHILD'S MIND. 185 

to most readers of the report. But is it not because we take too 
much for granted with reference to the knowledge possessed by 
the children in whom we are more especially interested and with 
whom we come in contact? I was rebuked and made ashamed of 
my own neglect when I came to test my little five year old girl 
with the same conceptions as those employed in the tests on the 
Boston children. Of course, it would be unnatural for me to say 
anything else than that she is above the average child in intelli- 
gence. The painful surprise came, when, after she had answered 
nearly every question of the above table correctly, the inquiry 
was made as to the origin of butter. The answer she gave was — 
"From buttercups." Some of the Boston children stated that 
"skeins and spools of thread grow on a sheep's back or on bushes, 
stockings on trees, butter comes from buttercups, flour is made 
from beans (quite excusable in a Boston child), oats grow on 
oak trees, bread is swelled yeast, meat is dug from the ground, 
and potatoes picked from trees. Cheese is squeezed from butter, 
the cow says 'bow-wow,' the pig purrs, bricks are the same as 
stones, etc." 

We cannot do better than to quote at least two of the conclu- 
sions reached by Dr. Hall to the effect that: 

1. There is next to nothing of real educational value, the 
knowledge of which it is safe to assume at the beginning of 
school life. Hence, the need of objects and the danger of books, 
word cramming and rote learning. 

2. The best preparation parents can give children for real 
valuable school learning is to make them acquainted with natu- 
ral objects, especially with the sights and sounds of the country, 
and send them to good, common-sense kindergartens. "A coun- 
try barn or a forest is a great school at that age." 

In a recent number of the "Outlook" the following pertinent 
paragraph appears under the caption, "A Public Benefactor: " 

"A teacher in one of the public schools in Brooklyn has offered 
a prize for the best collection of leaves made by her pupils. It is 
said this has created an intense interest in botany in her class, 
which shows itself in very much better text-book work. Squeers 



186 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

forestalled education by a great many years when he taught the 
boy to spell "horse," and then go and curry one. One of the 
pathetic things about our system of education, when the teacher 
is a teacher from necessity and not from choice, is that the pupil 
literally goes through the world having eyes and seeing not, and 
having ears and hearing not, because the power that is within 
himself is not developed. He is too often made a receptacle for 
words — a human phonograph, who is expected to give back just 
what has been put in, in its original form, not changed by the in- 
dividual use he has made of those words. The teacher in Brook- 
lyn may never be known by name, but she certainly will leave her 
impress on the plastic germ of immortality intrusted to her care. 
It is safe to say that her boys will not spend their summer vaca- 
tions playing billiards, nor her girls embroidering purple dogs 
against a green sky when they reach maturity. The woods will 
offer them more interesting objects than Broadway." 

That children at the age of six have ideas of right and wrong 
was certainly evinced by the Boston tests. Each child was asked 
to name three things w^rong and three things of which right can be 
predicated. In not a single case were the two confused or inter- 
changed. Boys say it is wrong to steal, fight, break windows, get 
drunk, ■' sass " or " cuss," while girls intimate it is wrong not to 
comb their hair, to get butter on their dress, to climb trees, to un- 
fold the hands, or be " Tom boys." Wrong things are more fre- 
quently specified than right, showing among other things the sad 
fact that children are more often told what they must not do 
than they are informed as to what they may do. 

Another extended inquiry has been made since the attempts in 
Boston. It was that of Dr. Hartmann undertaken in Annaberg, 
Germany, in order to gain some light upon the question as to 
what is the best natural basis of primary school instruction. 
These tests extended over a period of five years on as many 
groups of children and the vigor and enthusiasm with which they 
were prosecuted caused similar tests to be undertaken in other 
German cities. The course since mapped out at Annaberg for the 
first two years of school life finds its basis in the results of these 



THE CONTENTS OF A CHILD'S MIND. 187 

experiments. So valuable have these tests been found to be, that 
they are now undertaken each year in various cities whose eyes 
are open to the best development of the children's mental life. 
One Normal School, that of Jena, begins each year with similar 
investigations into the children's sphere of thought. Who can 
predict what delightful and beneficial changes would he wrought 
in the prevailing methods if tests were made in at least 100 rep- 
resentative localities of our country. What a comment theresults 
would be! How quick we would be to insist that methods of 
teaching be adopted which would be better suited to the average 
child mind and increase his stock of ideas, train his senses and 
make more possible his final emancipation from the thraldom of 
ignorance, so that in him there could be realized tlie ideal, com- 
plete, well-rounded development which should be the lot of every 
individual. 



LESSON XVI. 

THE ILLUSIONS OF SENSE. 

Thus far we have considered only the thought processes of the 
normal person in his wakeful moments. In several of the previ- 
ous chapters, in which the various sensations have been the sub- 
ject of discussion, little or nothing has been said of the illusions 
of sense. By illusion, in the broadest sense of the word, is meant 
mental deception. In its more restricted meaning, it indicates a 
mistaken subjective or mental interpretation of an objective im- 
pression, as when the charred, blackened stump at the roadside, 
is taken for a crouching highwayman, or the perfectly square, 
plane figure appears higher than it is wide, or the lady's hand 
appears smaller clothed in a black than in a white glove. 

Illusions must be distinguished from hallucinations. In the 
illusion, there is actually present some objective stimulus whicli 
is somehow misinterpreted, in consequence of which, we have m 
wrong picture of the object as it actuallj' exists. On the other 
hand, in the hallucination there is no objective stimulus at all. 
This difference is made more clear and definite by illustration. 
I am fishing. The trolling line is out, the spoon is twirling, my 
thumb is on the reel seat with fingers ready to "reel in"— all is 
expectancy. Suddenly, I feel a jerk at the line, the flexible tip of 
the rod is bending, I cry out exultingly "a strike." I reel in a 
few feet and reluctantly am compelled to admit that I was de- 
ceived by a bunch of weeds getting on my hook — an illusion of 
sense. The jerk at the line was an actual objective stimulus, but 
was misinterpreted to be the bite of a muskellunge instead of a 
bunch of weed. This is a case of sensory illusion. The voices one 
hears in his troubled dreams, the monsters one sees in a terrible 
nightmare, the dagger of Lady Macbeth— ("Is this a dagger I 
(188) 



THE ILLUSIONS OF SENSE. 189 

see before me? "j— all these, in that they are products of fancy's 
creating power and not based upon real objectively existing 
voices and shapes, are hallucinations. Thus, it is said, the poet, 
Goethe, was able, when his eyes were closed and his head inclined, 
to see a flower, out of which other new flowers kept growing for 
as long a time as he liked. 

Some writers insist that the treatment of the interesting phe- 
nomena grouped under the class-names, hallucinations and illu- 
sions, lie outside of the province of the psychologist. But you 
will recall that at the outset, in the very first pages of this book, 
it was claimed that in order to know what mind is we must know 
what it does. The real work of the student of Psychology is to 
discover the nature of mind as it unfolds and reveals itself in the 
activities of daily life. The study of illusions throws much light 
on the subject of sense perception, showing conclusively that the 
mental element in every perceptive act, is an important and es- 
sential factor. No fair-minded student will close his eyes to a 
single fact that will shed the least ray of light upon the nature of 
the subject he is investigating. In the present volume we are 
seeking to discover the nature of mind. We can do this only 
when we patiently investigate into all the activities through 
which mind manifests its nature. Illusions of sense are especially 
characteristic of the child mind in the imaginative period. Of all 
persons, the teacher and parent ouglit be acquainted with the fact 
that all individuals do not see the same object in the same way. 
Though the same object may make the sameimageon the retina, 
this objective stimulus will be differently interpreted by each 
individual whose sensorium is affected. The perceptions of no 
two individuals are exactly alike, be they induced by the same 
visual, auditory, touch, smell or taste impressions. Two travel- 
ers, both thoroughly honest, will give quite different accounts of 
the same object, viewed abroad, because each perceived this ob- 
ject differently. The beautiful forest with its gigantic trees, dense 
shade and graceful trunks will make three distinct impressions 
on as many persons. The lumberman will enter the forest with his 
cool, commercial eye, calculating the number of logs that could be 



190 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

cut from tliis oak or that hemlock, the number of "board-feet" 
that each will yield, and so on; the tired, hot, dusty traveler will 
appreciate most of all its delightful shade, the soft mossy turf 
that makes such a restful couch upon which to recline— little cares 
he whether the tree over his body is a beech, pine or sycamore; 
on the other hand, the artist, with his sketching paper, looks at 
the trees with respect to the blending of color, their outline and 
general aesthetic effect. Do you not readily see that these three 
men will carry away in their minds, very different pictures of this 
same forest ? You are, no doubt, familiar with the old time jingle 
which relates the story of 

THE BLIND ^[E^' AND THE ELEPHANT. 

Di was six men of Indostan 

To learning much inclined. 
Who went to see the elephant 

(Though all of them were blind), 
That each by observation 

Might satisfy his mind. 

The first approached the elepliant, 

And, happening to fall 
Against his broad and sturdy side, 

At once began to bawl: 
"God bless me! but the elephant 

Is very like a wall!" 

The second, feeling of the tusk, 

Cried: "Ho! what have we here, 
So very round and smooth, and sharp? 

To me 'tis very clpnr. 
This wonder of an elephant 

Is very like a spear!" 

The third approached the animal. 

And, happening to take 
The squirming trunk within his hands. 

Thus boldly up he spake: 
"I see," quoth he, "the elephant 

Is very like a snake!" 



THE ILLUSIONS OF SENSE. 191 

The fourth reached out his eager hand, 

And felt about the knee. 
"What most this wondrous beast is like, 

Is very plain," quoth he; 
"'Tis clear enough the elephant 

Is very like a tree! " 

The fifth, who chanced to touch the ear, 

Said : " E'en the blindest man 
Can tell what this resembles most; 

Deny the fact who can, 
This marvel of an elephant 

Is very like a fan! " 

The sixth no sooner had begun 

About the beast to gi'ope. 
Than, seizing on the swinging tail 

That fell within his scope, 
"I see," quoth he, "the elephant 

Is very like a rope!" 

And so these men of Indostan 

Disputed loud and long. 
Each in his own opinion 

Exceeding stiff and strong, 
-Though each was partly in the right, 
, And all were in the wrong! 

So it is with children in our schools — with their organs of sense 
differently developed, they each look at a new object from a dif- 
ferent point of view. Teachers and parents are apt to forget this 
and censure children accordingly. This brings out the other fact 
that illusions are not all uniform. The illusion that occurs to 
one person may not be so perceived by another. The most im- 
portant fact to remember is that illusions do occur, and that 
teachers and others should accordingly make allowance for 
them. One of the most humiliating experiences that I have to 
remember, one which harrows my soul to this day, though it 
occurred years agone, was due to a quite common optical illu- 
sion. When less than sixteen years of age, I was given charge 



192 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

of alarge, ungraded, district school. One of the twenty-five classes 
I was compelled to teach each day was Plane Geometry. I had 
always noticed that the squares drawn by the pupils looked 
higher than they did wide. This seemed to occur so regularly 
that I cautioned the pupils that they measure accurately the lines, 
especially in drawing square figures. The next day the squares 
drawn by the same pupils still looked higher than wide. This fact 
so nettled me that I "lectured" the class severely because they 
did not draw their squares square. Fate seemed to decree that I 

should learn a lesson then 
and there, for I was sudden- 
ly seized with the notion to 
measure the lines before their 
very eyes that they might see 
how serious their mistakes 
actually were — when lo, I 
discovered that I, myself, 
was at fault — the squares 
were perfectly drawn — and 1 
had to back down as grace- 
fully as I knew how. This 



Figure 24. experience is related on the 

basis of the old trite saying that " an honest confession is good 
for the soul." 

When comparing magnitudes in the upper part of the field of 
vision with those in the lower, one overestimnt«^s the former. 
The upper and lower half of an "S," "B," "X" or a figure "8" 
appear of nearly the same size, but when they are inverted 
(''S'" " 9'" "x" ^^^ "8")' "^^^ difference in the size of the two 
halves is exaggerated. 

A vertical line appears longer than a horizontal line of the same 
length— at least to a large majority of persons. (See Fig. 24.) 
This is because greater effort of the eye is called for in order to 
see a vertical line than is required to see one that is horizontal. 
The vertical line seems longer for almost the same reason that a 



THE ILLUSIONS OF SENSE. 



193 



mile up hill seems longer to the traveler than a mile over a level 
stretch of country — it takes more effort to get over the ground. 
A square whose height is diminished by at least one fortieth seems 



^ y y y y y 



y y y y y y 



~y 



y- 



y y 



-y~y 



/ y 



y y 



\XX^\XNX 



y y y y y y y y y y y y 



yyyyy^yyyxyyyyy 



Figure 25. 

perfectly squa re to the eye of so good and well-trained an observer 
as Helmholtz. 

Illusions are of frequent occurrence — all persons are subject to 
them, and they appear in connection with everyone of the senses. 
The optical illusions are probably the most common and will first 





Figure 26. 

receive our attention. In Fig. 25 (first described by Zollner, 
and known as Zollner's lines) the four, long, main (horizontal) 
lines are actually parallel, though they by no means appear so. 
They seem to be very far from parallel, each adjoining pair of lines 
seems to diverge at one end and converge at the other. In Fig. 

L. p.— 13 



194 



PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 



26 we have practically the same illusion in another form ; also in 
Fig. 27. 

In Fig. 28 and Fig. 29 we have the optical illusion known 
commonly as the illusion of discontinuity. 




Figure 27. 

In A of Fig. 28, a appears continuous with c, but is really so 
with b. This is especially emphasized iu B (Fig. 28), in which the 
actually continuous line ab appears to be deflecte.d once in one 




% 



B 



\ 



Figure 28. 

direction and again in the opposite direction. When two unequal 
angles together make 180°, the acute angle appears relatively 
larger and the obtuse angle relatively smaller than should be the 



THE ILLUSIONS OF SENSE. 



195 



case. Thus in A of Fig. 29, c seems continuous with a, while b is 
really so; this is because the lower obtuse angle is made smaller 
than it really is. 

We are also greatly deceived by the apparent length of lines. 



^^ 



Figure 29. 



We have already referred to the fact that a vertical line appears 
longer than a horizontal line of the same length. This has beon 
shown in Fig. 24. In Fig. 30 the horizontal portions of I, II, 



V 



\ 



in 



IV 



Figure 30. 



Ill and IV are all the same length . The greater the angle at the 
extremity,the greater is the apparent length of the line. 

The same influence seems to obtain with reference to the pair 



196 PRACTICAL LESSONS TN PSYCHOLOCrY. 

of horizontal lines a and b in Fig. 31, and the pair of horizontal 



A 



< ^ 



Figure 31. 

lines X and j in Fig. 32, which are exactly the same in length, 
though they by no means appear so. 

> ^ < < — ' > 

Figure 32. 

The presence of the lines themselves has nothing to do with the 
optical illusion, as is shown in the cut (Fig, 33) where the lines 



V 



A 



A 



V 



Figure 33. 
are omitted. This seems to show conclusively that the illusion is 
due to the fact that we overestimate small angles and underesti- 

< ? < 

Figure 34. 

mate large ones. That angular inclination is the decisive factor 
is shown best of all in Fig. 34, where the continuous line i:^ 



THE JIJASWNS OF SENSE. 



197 



bisected, exactly at the middle point, though the two parts do 
not appear equal. 



^^ 




Figure 35. 

With most persons the two areas in Fig. 35 would be judged 
unequal. To the majority of persons the upper figure in the cut ap- 




pears largerthan the lower one. We judge the two areas by means 
of their juxtaposed lines. The upper figure seems the larger because 



198 



PRACTICAL LESSONS LW PSYCHOLOOY. 



its longer side (the base Hue, AB) is brought into contrast with 
the shorter side, mn, of the lower figure. It is a well-known fact 
that a square resting on one of its corners is apparently larger 
than an equal square resting on one of its sideSjbecause we then 
contrast the side of the one with the diagonal of the other 
square. The illusion in Fig. 36 rests upon the same underlying 

principle as that represented 
in Fig. 35, the lower figure 
seeming the larger, and quite 
clearly so. 

The cut (Fig. 37) repre- 
sents a gothic arch bisected 
at one side by a straight col- 
umn, the apex of the arch 
being at A. On looking at 
the two sides of the arch 
it will seem impossible that 
both can be of the same de- 
gree of curvature, or that 
the lines of the shorter side, 
if extended, will join those of 
the longer one. It can, how- 
ever, be very easily proved 
by drawing two lines with 
a pencil across the straight 
bisecting lines, when the arch 
will at once appear in its 
proper form, although until 
this is done the eye refuses 
to perceive the fact, and the appearance of two dissimilar arches 
persists. This illusion is of practical importance to architects 
who in planning buildings with arches, should avoid placing col- 
umns in such a position that the arches will be unsymmetrically 
divided by them. 

Drapers, furnishers and decorators in making the ceiling of a 
room appear higher or lower, or the room itself appear larger or 




Figure 37. — An Arch Unsymmetri 
CALLY Divided. 



THE ILLUSIONS OF SENSE. 199 

smaller, take advantage of certain optical illusions. Likewise 
the dressmaker. No stoutly built woman could be persuaded to 
wear a striped dress so made, that the stripes run horizontally 
around her body. Neither will she wear a large figured plaid. 

"The Proof Header's Illusion" is one of the more common 
forms of illusion experienced. Printers will read common words 
aright when spelled wrong simply because of the element of ex- 
pectancy. The typographical errors occur as a rule in con- 
nection with common words, and are not found in connection 
with unfamiliar, unusual or extraordinary words. The familiar 
words are read as wholes by the proof reader, while the unfa- 
miliar words are read a letter at a time. Professor James relates 
an experience which is very pertinent in this connection : " I re- 
member one night in Boston, whilst waiting for a 'Mount Au- 
burn' car to bring me to Cambridge, reading most distinctly that 
name upon the signboard of a car on which (as I afterwards 
learned) 'North Avenue' was painted. The illusion was so vivid 
that I could hardly believe my eyes had deceived me. All reading 
is more or less performed in this way." 

Professor Lazurus tells us that "practised novel, or newspaper, 
readers could not possibly get on so fast if they had to see accu- 
rately every single letter of each word in order to perceive the 
words. More than half of the words come out of their mind, 
and hardly half from the printed page. Were this not so, did we 
perceive each letter by itself, typographic errors in well-known 
words woiTld never be overlooked. Children, whose ideas are not 
yet ready enough to perceive words at a glance, read them w'rong 
if they are printed wrong; that is, right according to the print- 
ing. In a foreign language, although it may be printed with the 
same letters, we read by so much the more slowly as we do not 
understand or are unable promptly to perceive the words. But 
we notice misprints all the more readily. For this reason Latin 
and Greek, and still better Hebrew works are more correctly 
printed, because the proofs are better corrected than in German 
works. Of two friends of mine one knew much Hebrew, the other 
little, the latter, however, gave instruction in Hebrew in a Gym- 



200 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

nasium [as the Germans call their academic schools], and when 
he called the other to help correct his pupils' exercises, it turned 
out that he could find out all sorts of little errors better than 
his friend, because the latter 's perception of the words as totals 
was too swift." 

This tendency, so prevalent, of perceiving optical illusions is 
also made use of in every spiritualistic seance where the "fake" 
medium deludes the bereft inquirer into believing that he actually 
sees the spirit of his departed wife, mother, sister or child. The 
mental picture he has of his loved one, the j^earning to catch 
just one glimpse of her face (in which the "wish is father to the 
thought " ) , the bewilderment that comes with the semi-mysterious 
surroundings, the darkened room and the gauze enveloped figure, 
all conspire in making him clothe the figure that appears with 
the form of face and quality of expression that his own loved one 
possessed during her natural life. In other words he sees what 
he so much desires to see. For something of the same reason 
criminal courts are very slow to take at face value the testimony 
of an interested party as to the identity of a person supposed to 
have committed a crime. This is especially true when the wit- 
ness is in an excited condition or was, at least, when the crime 
was committed. So anxious to have the criminal detected and 
so desirous of having a part in this detection, such a person is 
liable to error no matter how positively he may swear or affirm 
with reference to the identity of the suspected person and his con- 
nection with this or that particular crime. When the writer was 
a boy of twelve he was a forced spectator at a negro lynching. 
The victim of the mob's fury was declared guilty of crime simply 
on the basis of his being identified as the criminal by a little girl 
of five years of age, who was at the time in a highly excited con- 
dition. It afterwards transpired that the man was entirely in- 
nocent of the crime for which he was executed. 

We are all subject to certain peculiar illusions of movement. 
If you are seated in a twisted swing and it is made to rotate and 
then suddenly stopped you have a sensation of movement in the 
opposite direction. At a railroad station when seated in a car 



THE ILLUSIONS OF SENSE. 201 

expecting the train to start it is difficult to tell, when we see 
objects move past the car windows, whether it is our train that 
moves or the one alongside that in which we are seated. Sim- 
ilar illusions are noted when we take passage in an elevator or 
are seated in the cabin of a ferry boat. 

In discussing the sense of hearing in a former chapter, your at- 
tention was called to the fact that we are very apt to misjudge 
the direction of sound. This illusion is shown very clearly in the 
"Punch and Judy" exhibitions, so common a few years ago at 
county fairs, dime museums and street shows, in which the ven- 
triloquist talks without moving his lips, and at the same time 
draws our attention to a doll or two whose lips he moves by a 
little spring. We at once locate the source of the sound within 
the doll. 

You have no doubt been present at a play where an actor who 
is entirely ignorant of music is required in the plot to play on 
the mandolin or banjo. He simply goes through the motions 
before our eyes, while some one behind the scenes or in the or- 
chestra actually does the playing. But because our attention is 
fixed upon the ^ctor, it is almost impossible not to hear the 
music as due to him and proceeding from that precise locality of 
space in which he is standing. 

The illusions of touch are very frequent. They consist simply 
of a touch stimulus occurring at one portion of the body being 
interpreted as arising from an entirely different locality. Besides 
the mere modification or confusion with reference to locality of 
the stimulus, there is also oftentimes a change in the quantity 
and quality or tone of the touch sensation. If some one touch 
you at any given point on the skin of the forearm and you try 
to indicate the same identical spot, you miss it by considerable. 
1 remember a peculiar case of translocation of touch stimula- 
tion that once happened in my own experience. There is nothing 
more disagreeable to me than to have my face touched with 
woolen cloth of any kind — a piece of flannel or a blanket. Once 
while watching by the bedside of a sick friend my hand uncon- 
sciously slipped from off the table by the bed and touched the 



202 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

woolen blanket which formed part of the covering. Immediately, 
I felt the disagreeable touch of the blanket on the left side of my 
face and not on my hand, where the touch actually occurred. 

A common illusion is connected with the movement of a point 
or object on the skin. Of two objects moving on the skin at the 
same time and at the same rate, the hea'^'ier one appears to move 
the faster. 

If two points kept equidistant from each other, be drawn over 



Figure 38 (Webeb.) 

The dotted lines represent the actual course of tbe points, while the unbroken 
curved lines indicate the course as felt. 

the skin, for example, across the face, so as to describe parallel 
lines (ac/and be in Fig. 38), the person experimented upon will 
feel the two points diverge near the mouth, as shown in the accom- 
panying figure. 

Attention has already been called to the fact that we frequently 
experience secondary sensations — thatis, a singlestrong sensation 
(primary) will be accompanied by another totally different, both 
as to quality and intensity. The already mentioned phenomenon 
of color audition in which definite color sensations are evoked by 
a sound stimulus, also the cases instanced in which letters, words 
and figures are colored, would naturally be grouped under these 



THE ILLUSIONS OF SENSE. 203 

secondary perceptions. These color sensations can be evoked by 
taste and smell stimulations as well as by visual and auditory 
means of arouseraent. I have a pupil in one of my university 
classes, who associates colors with taste, and cannot rid himself 
of these secondary and illusory sensations. For example, to him 
the taste of melon is "green," that of the apple is "red," while 
beans taste "brown," etc. I know a German professor who 
always has an acute sensation of pain in his shoulder every time 
he sees a yellow light— a real pain from which he suffers excru- 
ciating agony— nevertheless a pseudo-sensation, or better, a sec- 
ondary perception. 

And so we might go on, but a sufficient number of facts have 
been adduced to show that we are all subject to illusions of sense. 
From your own fund of experiences you can call up many such 
illusions that illustrate the point under discussion much better 
than the examples I have here instanced. 

In hallucination, as distinguished from illusion, all objective 
stimulus is wanting. In hallucination the mental picture is purely 
a creation and projection of mind. In normal life perfect hallu- 
cinations in the strict sense are exceedingly rare. That they do 
occur is vouched for by the hundreds of well authenticated cases 
reported to the "Society for Psychical Research," not only in 
England and Germany, but also in our own country. Illusions 
are the experiences of most people; hallucinations of compara- 
tively few. The following case recently came to the knowledge of 
the writer, and is thoroughly vouched for, but has never been pub- 
lished as yet. The parties concerned in the narrative are all well 
known to the writer. Mr. B., a man 45 years of age, utterly de- 
void of sentiment, very matter-of-fact, cool-headed and business- 
like, is a large lumber dealer in Ohio. One morning he was 
walking through a piece of timber which he had purchased a 
short time before, and was engaged in directing the lumbermen 
as to what trees should be cut and how long the logs should be; 
where the oak, hickory and walnut respectively should be piled, 
etc. While in the very midst of this work of directing his men 
he heard a voice like that of his daughter calling, "Father! 



204 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

come, help me ! " He was observed to grow very pale by his fore- 
man and others standing near, but no one could divine the cause 
as he himself said nothing. He dropped his work, though it was 
only in the middle of the forenoon, drove to his home in the 
neighboring town and lay down from mere exhaustion. His wife 
noticing his strange appearance, so very unusual, as he had never 
in his life been ill, sent immediately for the family physician. To 
the physician Mr. B. confidentially related , for the first time, what 
had occurred in the woods. A few moments later a messenger 
boy brought a telegram which stated that his daughter (who 
had been visiting at Columbus for two weeks, and who was ex- 
pected home the following Saturday evening) was smitten with 
typhus fever, and requesting that he come at once to her bedside. 
He did so, finding her delirious, and that she had been calling for 
her father ever since ten o'clock that morning — the very same 
hour at which he heard the voice so clearly, when in the timber 
no less than forty miles away. 

While such hallucinations are very infrequent so far as nor- 
mal, healthy persons are concerned, they are exceedingly common 
occurrences with the insane, and like illusions proper, they occur 
within the realm of each of the senses. 

With regard to the relative frequency of hallucination of each 
of the senses as compared with each other, they occur in the fol- 
lowing order — hearing, sight, taste, touch (including muscle 
sensations), and smell. This is certainly the order of frequency 
among the insane, though some writers maintain that among 
the sane, visual hallucinations are more common than those of 
hearing. As yet, however, there is not sufficient evidence with 
which to substantiate any such claim. 

Among auditory hallucinations the hearing of voices is the 
most common, and oftentimes these voices assume the character 
of amandate, in whichcase they becomeexceedingly serious. Many 
homicidal and suicidal acts perpetrated by the insane can be at- 
tributed to the commands of these imaginary voices. Some 
patients will do nothing whatever, even the most inconsequential 
things, without consulting an imaginary friend of whom ques- 



THE ILLUSIONS OF SENSE. 205 

tions and directions are asked, and replies received, resulting in 
implicit obedience. Even if the hallucinatory command be to 
abstain from food, to lacerate the flesh, to commit a crime — no 
matter what— it is faithfully carried out and realized in action. 

These hallucinations of hearing often occur in deaf people; in- 
deed, imperfect hearing is sometimes the real cause of the disorder. 

Among the visual hallucinations, the most frequent forms seen 
are faces, sometimes horrible, grotesque, and terrible in expres- 
sion, even so much so as to cause an epileptic seizure. That the 
retina is not the seat of these visual perceptions is shown by the 
fact that hallucinations of sight may occur when the optic nerves 
are atrophied and the person totally blind. 

The taste hallucinations are of importance since with the in- 
sane they frequently suggest that the food has been tampered 
with. Patients often refuse to take food as a result of these hal- 
lucinations of taste, because they are coupled in their minds with 
some conspiracy or plot. 

Hallucinations of smell may be either pleasant or unpleasant, 
more frequently the latter. Hallucinations of smell may be due 
to lesions in the brain, or to some disease in the sense organs. 
Any sort of .lesion in the tempero-spheuoidal lobe [in which the 
hearing center is located], is very apt to produce hallucinations 
of smell. The pleasant smells are chiefly those of flowers or the 
artificial odors of colognes and perfume extracts. 

Among tactile hallucinations must be included those of com- 
mon feeling— the organic and muscular sensations. Some insane 
patients complain of painful sensations which are totally subjec- 
tive in their origin. The hypochondriac is familiar to us all. The 
hallucination sometimes takes the form of a delusion with refer- 
ence to the transformation of themselves, of their physical organ- 
ism into some other substance than their body. It is not so very 
infrequent that a patient claims that he has become petrified, or 
is transformed into wood or glass. The writer remembers a pa- 
tient who believed his right arm to be of glass (and he wasn't a 
base ball pitcher either). Another patient came under my obser- 
vation who thought her entire body had been transformed into 



206 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

glass and shf would not turn her head or open her mouth, even 
absolutely refusing to eat, for fear she would crack her face. An- 
other patient refused to wash his hands in water, for fear the 
water would induce decay since his hands were wade of wood. 
He didn't seem to realize that decay was all the more sure if he 
failed to perform his ablutions. 

Hallucinations, and illusions also, may be caused in the sane 
by alcohol, those of sight being the most frequent. Opium, bella- 
donna, Indian hemp, etc., are known to produce similar effects. It 
is exceedingly rare that hallucinations of more than one sense 
are observed in the same person. 



LESSON XYII. 

HABIT. 

A Btatement of M. Leon Duniont, expresses a well-known law 
of nature. It is to this effect : " Every one knows how a garment 
after having been worn a length of time, clings to the shape of 
the body better than when new. There has been a change in 
the fiber and this changeisa new habit of cohesion. A lock works 
better after having been used for some time. At the outset more 
force was required to overcome certain roughness in the mech- 
anism. The overcoming of this resistance is a plienomenon that 
is met with in every department of nature. It is a phenomenon 
of habituation. It costs less trouble to fold a paper when it 
has been folded already; and just so with the nervous system, the 
impressions of the outer world fashion for themselves more and 
more appropriate paths, and these vital phenomena I'ecur under 
similar excitement from without, when they have been uninter- 
rupted for a bertain time." 

This, then, is a general statement of the philosophy of habit. 
It touches not only the department of mind, but of body and ex- 
ternal nature as well. All the recent writers admit the physical 
principle which lies at the basis of our habitual activities. There is 
no chapter in Psychology that is of more importance to the 
teacher than that which deals with the habitual activities of the 
individual, especially of the child. 

You will remember that in a previous chapter the assertion 
was made, and clearly demonstrated, that body and mind arein- 
timately associated, that mind influences the condition of the 
body, and that the states of body influence the mind in its nature 
and functions. This is demonstrated with especial clearness when 
we come to speak of habit. 

Just as a dislocated finger, a sprained ankle, or a broken limb are 

(207) 



208 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

in danger of being dislocated or broken again; just as a scar is 
more liable to become inflamed and suffer pain and cold, than are 
the neighboring parts; just as tissue that has once been attacked 
by different forms of disease is more subject to a recurrence of the 
disease than any other; so it is with those activities in which the 
body has once been engaged under the control of the will, they 
take place more easily and with greater facility and exactness, 
than movements that are just newly initiated. This is especially 
true when we come to speak of the nervous system, that portion 
of our organism which is more intimately concerned with the 
mental activities than any other. If a certain one of our sense 
organs is stimulated, e.g., the eye, ear, or the hand, and that 
stimulus is carried to the brain to be expressed in terms of sen- 
sation, by traversing a certain path, a second stimulus is more 
likely to follow the path of the first, than any other possible path, 
provided the conditions remain the same. Let us illustrate: The 
first ray of light that enters the child's eye and passes through 
the lens and humors, follows its course along the optic nerve to 
the brain, but pursues the path of least resistance and the nervous 
impulse terminates in a given brain center. Now the second ray 
of light that stimulates the child's eye (provided the conditions 
remain thesame) does not evoke a nervous impulse that will take 
a new route, but the path previously followed will be the one selected 
in the second case. So in the early life of the child, when the brain 
is plastic and these sensation impulses are continually coming 
infrom the surface of the body , certain paths areclearly determined 
beforehand, which become more and more fixed, more clearly de- 
fined, and more permanent, as the activities of thechild increase, 
and his age advances. 

But not only the impulses that are carried in make permanent 
paths for themselves, but also those impulses that find expres- 
sion in certain movements of the body (the acts of will) also es- 
tablish such paths. For example: If my hand is touched with 
a red-hot iron, as quick as the sensation is experienced, the hand 
is withdrawn from the painful stimulus. In withdrawing my 
hand from the hot iron, I make a certain definite movement. If 



HABIT. 209 

at a later time my hand and the red-hot iron should again be 
brought into close proximity, I am more apt to withdraw my 
hand in the self-same way that I did before, rather than to initi- 
ate a new kind of movement. 

You have noticed the same thing in the practical activities of 
daily life, not only in man, but in the higher animals. The horse 
that has occupied a certain stall in a stable for a considerable 
length of time will, when left to his own free choice, go to the same 
manger from which he has eaten for so long a time rather than 
to any other. It is only by great effort, and even severe punish- 
ment, that he can be taught to occupy other quarters. The dog 
insists upon sleeping in the same corner and upon the same mat 
that has been his for so long. A warmer and more comfortable 
place has no attraction for him. He feels more satisfied with the 
old set of conditions. If we have made our home in the self-same 
building for a long period of time, we find ourselves absent-mind- 
edly walking to the same house, showing that the habit of mak- 
ing that place our destination is deep-seated and fixed in the or- 
ganism itself. I know a little child that had been permitted in its 
early infancy to hold a handkerchief in her hand as she lay in her 
crib. After having done this, for some time, it was noticed that 
she always asked for that knotted handkerchief before she could 
go to sleep. She somehow came to consider that that particular 
handkerchief and the phenomena of sleeping were intimately and 
directly associated, so that until the time she was eight years of 
age it was found impossible for her to attain normal sleep with- 
out holding the handkerchief in her hand. This is an extreme 
example showing how little things, that take their rise in a purely 
incidental manner, become registered upon our organism and so 
deeply seated, that only supreme efort and continual endeavor, 
at great inconvenience, will eradi^^; ^e them. 

As already intimated, the queF"^; m of habit is one of great im- 
portance and deep significance f ^r every teacher as he comes in 
contact with the child mind. This is more clearly shown when 
we come to consider the practical effects of habit, 

(1) Habit always diminishes the amount of conscious atten- 

L. p.— 14 



210 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

tioD with which our acts are performed. The pianist, in first 
learning to play his instrument, finds that each movement of the 
fingers must be closely attended to, that the relative position of 
the keys must be closely observed, and even then he is continually 
making mistakes ; but after agiven amount of practice, when these 
muscular movements have become habitual, he can play while 
following conversation or attending to something else. He sim- 
ply glances at the musical score and his fingers perform the nec- 
essary movements. 

The hunter, as he stalks the deer through the forest, seeing his 
game break suddenly into his field of vision and come within rifle 
range, raises his gun, aims and shoots before he is really aware 
of having done so. His organism has become trained so that it 
will respond to such a stimulus invariably, and without a large 
amount of conscious attention. The sight of a deer always 
means to him, the raising of the gun, aiming it and the discharge 
of its load. 

Even in our simplest and most instinctive activities, we find 
that we are more and more facilitated in carrying out these 
movements when they have become habitual. For example: The 
child in learning to walk, first attends to each movement that is 
necessary to locomotion. His eye selects the spot where he 
wishes to put lis foot, and also watches the foot as it is placed 
forward in the chosen position. Every gentleman tips his hat on 
meeting a lady, but he does it without thinking just how the nec- 
essary movements of the hand and the arm are to be made. The 
modus operandi is not the object of his conscious attention to 
any extent. He could not describe the exact manner and move- 
ment in which he has performed this simple action. This and 
similar examples go to show that the amount of conscious atten- 
tion that accompanies our habitual movements is very small. 
This is a very significant fact, for we know that attention means 
effort, and if habitual movements are performed with little or no 
conscious attention, it is the same thing as saying that they are 
done with little or no conscious effort. This brings then to our 
notice another important consideration. 



HABIT. 211 

(2) Habitual movements are less fatiguing than the other ac- 
tivities of which we are capable. If certain activities are per- 
formed through habit, we find that there is leos wear and tear 
than if the movement belonged to another category. This is 
based in a measure upon what we said at the outset concerning 
the fact that each successive stimulus of an end-organ of sense 
tends to follow the same path that was taken by the initial sen- 
sation, because this is the path of least resistance. As the school- 
boy's sled goes down the hill with greater ease and speed after 
the path has been well worn than it did when first broken, so our 
sensations come to follow accustomed paths with greater facility 
and directness. It is a principle of mental economy that as many 
as possible of our activities should become habitual. To present 
the matter in a crude way, we may say that a well-ordered 
system of habits constitutes the greatest labor-saving device 
that could be furnished the mind. But there is yet another prin- 
ciple of which, as teachers, we ought to take cognizance. It is this : 

(3) Habitual actions are performed not only with less effort 
but in less time than are other activities. Not only is the atten- 
tion lessened" and.the feeling of effort diminished, but the act that 
is performed through habit is performed in a smaller time inter- 
val than that required for those activities which result from de- 
liberation and choice. Do you not see then that it is of the 
utmost value and far-reaching significance that there be insti- 
tuted in the child's mind certain habitual modes of thought, so 
that his mental exercises may be done at less expense to the capi- 
tal invested — his developing mind and his body as they together 
unfold their latent powers? The good, old grand-dame, as she 
knits in a purely mechanical way, talking continually, seems to 
knit without any great amount of effort, certainly without any 
degree of conscious attention ; but if she should happen to drop 
a stitch she is at once aware of the fact, so you see that after all, 
the mind is following a seemingly mechanical activity and is 
aware of each movement, exercising its dominion over these 
movements with an exceedingly small amount of effort, but with 
the keenest precision. 



212 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

We should also make mention of one other consideration that 
is exceedingly important: 

(4) Habitual movements are more precise than are our other 
activities — that is, an act that is done through force of habit, as 
we say, is performed in a more exact manner than if done with 
a large degree of conscious attention and mental supervision. 

We now come to some of the more practical considerations 
that cannot help but have weight with every instructor, for no 
teacher should be unmindful of the pedagogical importance of the 
principle of habit. As Professor James so forcibly relates: ''Habit 
is the enormous fly-wheel of society — its most precious con- 
servative agent. It alone is what keeps us all within the bounds 
of ordinance, and saves the children of fortune from the envious 
uprisings of the poor; it alone prevents the hardest and most 
repulsive walks of life from being deserted by those brought up 
to tread therein. It keeps the fisherman and deck-hand at sea 
through the winter; it holds the miner in his darkness, and nails 
the countryman to his log cabin and to his lonely home through 
all the months of snow; it protects us from invasion of the desert 
and the frozen zone. It dooms us to fight out the battle of life 
upon the lines of our nature or by early choice; or make the best 
of the pursuit which disagrees, because there is no other for which 
we are fitted, and it is too late to begin again." 

You see, then, how this principle of habit keeps those under 
different social conditions fairly well satisfied. I have seen the 
miner lying full length on the ground, the water dripping over 
him from the surface veins above, and in this cold and wet con- 
dition digging with his pickaxe, the coal from the shallow strata, 
working not less than fourteen hours a day for the mere pit- 
tance of eight cents an hour. That same man could havechanged 
his occupation, become an apprentice to a machinist in the large 
shops of a neighboring city, worked fewer hours, and received 
much greater remuneration. But no, this he would not do, 
though he realized that his work was arduous and that it was 
gradually making such great demands upon his vital energy that 
his life must needs be shortened thereby, yet he persisted in fol- 



HABIT. 213 

lowing the same line of work, the same old occupation, atgreater 
inconvenience and discomfort simply because ho had done so for 
so long a time. Through the principles of habit, certain impres- 
sions had become registered upon his organism in an indelible 
manner and in such a way as to conspire toward making a 
miner's life his only natural atmosphere. 

I know an old man who for twenty years had been what is 
known to railroad men as the "night caller," his work being to 
simply call those engineei's and firemen who were obliged to run 
the night trains. Reaching an advanced age, after such a long 
term of faithful service, the railroad official to whom he was re- 
sponsible and under whose direction he worked, decided to give 
him more pleasant, and what he thought more congenial employ- 
ment; instead of being compelled to worktheentire night,walking 
through the streets, exposed to all sorts of weather, he was offered 
a position which would pay him a little better salary and at the 
same time exact shorter hours of labor, and, best of all, it would 
be in the daytime rather than at night. At first the old man sig- 
nified his grateful acceptance, entered upon the new work with all 
the vigor he could command, and with complete success so far as 
the requirements of the position were concerned. After a few- 
days he became dissatisfied with this new and better position, 
and this dissatisfaction grew upon him so that in a short time 
he came to the railroad official and begged that he might be per- 
mitted to go back to his old-time night work even at a less salary 
than he was then receiving. That is, he was desirous of exchang- 
ing what ordinarily would be termed comfort for discomfort, 
simply because he had worked so long at night that he could not 
feel at home in any other environment — his world of thought and 
activity all centered in that employment in which he had been 
engaged so long. He had learned to sleep better in the daytime 
than at night, his food did him more good seemingly when eaten 
at night than the meals of which he partook in the daj'time, and 
so his whole scheme of life had become the reverse of that which 
has always been followed by the majority of men. 
Military men tell us of riderless cavalry horses which at many 



214 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

a battle have been seen to come together and go through their 
customary evolutions, at the sound of the bugle call. The same 
thing is shown in the case of many other animals. Most domes- 
tic beasts become machines pure and simple. A few years ago in 
a railroad accident in Ohio, the train bearing a portion of a 
large traveling menagerie was wrecked. The cages containing 
the tiger and leopard were broken open. Thetigerat first emerged 
from the cage, and the people were awe -stricken to think of 
such a vicious animal being free to roam at will in the woods. 
But presently it was seen to creep back again to the cage ; be- 
wildered by its new environment, the tiger sought refuge in a con- 
dition of things as nearly as possible like that to which it had 
become accustomed after so many years of close confinement, and 
could not be forced from the cage to stay. 

Men who have grown old in prison have asked to be readmitted 
after having served their time, and on this simple request being 
denied, they would commit some crime that would involve their 
incarceration in the prison again. People like to do things as they 
have always done them — like to live as they have always lived. In 
other words, the same habits of thought, of activity and of life, 
have become fixed and permanent. For this reason it is more 
difficult to elicit the interest of older persons in a new enterprise, 
than it is to gain the enthusiastic support of those who are 
younger. Habit makes people conservative, and a conservative 
man shrinks from new responsibilities and new relations. This 
accounts for the fact that most of the revolutions of the world 
have been wrought by young men; but on the other hand, this 
very conservatism is the salvation of our social institutions, so 
that the function of the teacher is made plain, namely, to incul- 
cate those habits of thought, activity and life that will redound 
to the best interests of the individual himself, as well as of the 
state in which he is a citizen, and at the same time, promote the 
highest interests of society in which he is a member. 

These habits are formed very early in life, and become so reg- 
istered on the body that they are overcome only with the great- 
est difficulty. Even at the early age of twenty-five it is not a 



HABIT. 215 

difficult ma tter to tell the young clergyman from the commercial 
traveler, or the young doctor from the young lawyer. The pro- 
fessional mannerisms have already fastened their hold, and one 
cannot escape them. His chosen profession then becomes the 
easiest line for him to follow, and contributes a large share 
towards his remaining in the position he has once chosen. 

Were it not for the force of habit there would be too much 
changing of vocation and society would become disorganized 
into a seething chaos. The law of habit, though an invisible 
law, is as strong and inexorable as any of the laws of na- 
ture. As the law of gravitation keeps each planet within its own 
clear and well defined orbit, so man is kej^t in his proper course 
throughout all his activities by the law of habit. The great thing, 
then, in all education is to see to it that the habits of the child 
are of the right kind. This is the same as saying that it is the 
duty of every teacher to see to it that every child makes his 
organism, his body, his nervous system, his ally instead of 
his enemy. One of the greatest teachers in the Roman Catho- 
lic church caught this idea when he said, "Give me the first seven 
years of a child's life and I can tell you what manner of man he 
will become." If the pupil be kept faithfully at work a certain 
number of hours of each day in perfecting the development of his 
mind and the growth of his body, no one need have any fear as 
to the final result that awaits him. Mere intention is not enough 
of a basis upon which to judge of one's character. We judge of 
character by one's actions. We tell what a man is by what he 
does, just as we tell what any object in nature is by its qualities. 
Character is abiding choice. It is made up of certain converging 
lines of activity that have become so deeply engraved upon our 
organism, that tendencies to act in certain directions when ap- 
propriate occasions arise, have become established. Mere emo- 
tional enthusiasm does not count; action, and action only, is the 
standard by which we form our estimate of individuals. 

Once while in London on a vei-y cold and bleak February day 
(one of those dreariest of days which only London can furnish), 
as I was walking hurriedly through the streets I noticed a coach- 



216 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

man poorly clad, shivering- in his seat, waiting in front of a build- 
ing quite unique, namely, a Cat Hospital. The lady whose servant 
he w'as, had found a stray cat on the street and had this coach- 
man drive two miles through the blustering winter's day, poorly 
clad and shivering with cold, in order that she might give this 
homeless cat a comfortable place. The comfort of the cat was 
prized more highly than that of her servant. You excuse her by 
saying that she meant well — that herintentions were good. The 
same might be said of those persons who are quick to weep over 
the fictitious personages in the play of a melodrama, while at the 
same time real persons are allowed to go unclothed, unfed and 
unsheltered. This same thing shows itself in certain habits of 
philanthropy. One man will give to charity only when he can 
become a patron of the charity ball, paying a fabulous price for 
a box, and in no other way can he be induced to help the suffer- 
ing of the lower classes of society. Another individual refrains 
instinctively (which means habitually) from any such ostenta- 
tion, not letting his right hand know what his left hand doeth, 
for some giving is actually " left-handed," i. e., not controlled by 
the same side of the brain as are the other activities. 

You have seen people who are merely bundles of emotion, who, 
instead of being guided by habits of thought are subject only to 
habits of feeling. The chief element in their makeup is what may 
be styled, and is commonly known as "sentimental gush." 
Everything that such a one doe8,iB done from emotional springs 
of action rather than as the result of cool, clear intellectual choice. 
I am reminded in this connection of a little story which well illus- 
trates the point under consideration. Shortly after the war, 
an Illinois man thought he would build a river steamer from 
what remained of the several war ships that were used on the 
Mississippi river during the Civil War, by rebuilding them so 
as to be used as freight vessels along this great channel of 
navigation. He took the hull of one vessel, the boiler from 
another, engines from another, and his various other equip- 
ment from still other vessels. After this conglomeration was 
gotten together, the various parts being arranged in order. 



HABIT. 217 

and the reconstructed ship was ready to be launched, he in- 
vited a party of friends to accompany him on this vessel when 
it made its first trip. The vessel was gaily decorated and all 
was auspicious for a delightful run to New Orleans. The vessel 
started, a full head of steam was on, all was going well 
when it met another vessel coming up stream. It was decided to 
salute the approaching vessel by an appropriate blast of the 
whistle, but on this being done the engines stopped, for it took 
all the steam to blow the whistle. So it is with some people. All 
of their energy and vitality goes to feed a certain emotional en- 
thusiasm which profits no one, unless coupled with intellectual 
choice. Now the function of the teacher is primarily the training 
of the habits of the mind. In thus training the habits of the indi- 
vidual he has before his mind as its highest aim, the completed, 
rounded out development of the child. Intellect, sensibility and 
will should each have its due share of attention from the teacher, 
and this done, the child cannot help but be a force for good in 
the state and in society. " Nothing succeeds like success " and 
nothing contributes so much to success as well organized habits, 
and for the reasons named at the outset, that habitual actions 
are performed with less effort, are less fatiguing, demand less 
conscious attention, take less time, and result in more precise 
forms of activity than any other that are performed. How es- 
sential then it is that seasoned, well-trained habits be inculcated, 
so that the development of the child may proceed without hinder- 
ance toward the true goal— the prefected manhood. 

Education cannot create anything new ; it can only develop 
and unfold the already existing faculties of the human mind. Do 
you not see that this great end is best achieved by the aid of one 
of education's most helpful sery emtB— habits? The foundation of 
these habits transforms activities originally performed with 
great slowness and effort, thereby entailing much fatigue, into 
skillful, facile, and dextrous actions. 

Children cannot be taught by maxims, precepts and proverbs. 
These are continually eluding memory's grasp. How admirably 
that old philosopher, John Locke, puts the matter when he says: 



218 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

"As the years advance, they bring greater freedom from re- 
straint, and the boy must often be left to his own guidance, 
because no mentor can be ever at his side except the one created 
in his own mind by sound principles and steady habits. It is 
true this is the best and safest one, and therefore worthy of the 
highest consideration ; for we must expect nothing from precau- 
tionary maxims and good precepts, though they be deeply im- 
pressed on the mind, beyond the point at which practice has 
changed them to Srm habits." 

The words of Niemeyer are equally pertinent : " The familiariz- 
ing of young people, even from their earliest years, with habits of 
order, cleanliness, decency, and politeness, will not be without 
lasting effects upon their inner life. Children take their first steps 
toward civilization in these matters. The love for regularity' is 
thus formed. Evil habits are forgotten by disuse. The more 
rarely evil traits have an opportunity of appearing, the more 
the causes are removed by which they are excited, the more thej^ 
will lose in strength just as physical powers relax when not 
exercised." 

I think it is plain to all of us, that the best thing to do is to 
make automatic and habitual, as early as possible, just as manj^ 
useful actions as wecan, guarding carefully against growing into 
any ways that would be harmful to our mental or moral health, 
as carefully as we would against the ravages of disease in its en- 
deavor to make onslaughts upon our physical well-being. There 
is a great mental saving when one can relegate the details of his 
daily life to the domain of habit. The more we do this, the more 
time and energy there is saved for the mind's higher powers in car- 
rying on the more original and complicated intellectual processes. 
Otherwise, it is as if the superintendent of a large factory gave 
his attention to little matters of detail, such as oiling a valve 
here, throwing on a belt there, or hauling cinders from the engine 
room, instead of giving his whole mind to the broader and more 
comprehensive matters of policy that should concern him as the 
factory's great head. So the mind can relegate certain mat- 
ters of detail to the lower centers, and the activities themselves 



HABIT. 219 

may become automatic after certain great and general principles 
have been decided. Professor James puts it aptly when he says : 

"There is no more miserable human being than one in whom 
nothing is habitual but indecision, and for whom the lighting of 
every cigar, the drinking of every cup, the time of rising and 
going to bed every day, and the beginning of every bit of work, 
are subjects of express volitional deliberation. Full half the time 
of such a man goes to the deciding or regretting of matters 
which ought to be so ingrained in him as practically not to exist 
for his consciousness at all. If there be such daily duties not yet 
ingrained in any one of my readers, let him begin this very hour 
to set the matter right." 

The acquiring of habits saves us from a useless waste of intel- 
lectual power, which power could be devoted to the execution of 
higher aims and ideals. But not only does habitude save power 
—it also strengthens power already possessed. Just a sthe black- 
smith gains added muscular power by the exercise of his arms in 
swinging the heavy sledge-hammer, or as the peasant woman 
learns to carry immense burdens upon her shoulders or head, so 
we by stubborn practice can induce a kind of habituation in the 
realm of our intellectual pursuits. You know how Demosthenes 
conquered the drawbacks of a feeble body and defective vocal 
organs and became a great orator. The blind, deaf mute, Laura 
Bridgman, reached a high grade of intelligence by ceaselessly 
exercising her sense of touch. 

The great secret of this wonderful development lies in action. 
" Not by precept, though it be daily heard," says Herbert Spen- 
cer, "not by example, unless it be followed; but only through 
action, which is often called forth by the relative feeling, can a 
moral habit be formed. The more frequently the conscious will 
has brought the conception-process into a certain direction, and 
led it to a distinct action, the less power will be needed to do it 
again ; the more easily will man pursue the same course in bis 
thoughts and actions.^' 

Again, we should never let an exception occur until the new 
habit is firmly rooted and deeply grounded in our very life itself. 



220 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

A continuity of training is the great means of making the nerv- 
ous system our ally in our endeavor to pursue the right course. 
Bain hits the nail squarely when he says : 

"The peculiarity of moral habits, contradistinguishing them 
from the intellectual acquisitions, is the presence of two hostile 
powers, one to be raised into the ascendant over the other. It is 
necessary, above all things, in such a situation never to lose a 
battle. Every gain on the wrong side undoes the effect of many 
conquests on the right. The essential precaution, therefore, is so 
to regulate the two opposing powers that the one may have a 
series of uninterrupted successes, until repetition has fortified it 
to such a degree as to enable it to cope with the opposition 
under any circumstances." 

Or, as Bahnsen so admirably states the matter: "One must 
first learn, unmoved, looking neither to the right nor left, to walk 
firmly on, in the straight and narrow path, before one can begin 
' to make one's self over again.' He, who every day makes a frevsli 
resolve, is like one who, arriving at the edge of a ditch he is to 
leap, forever stops and returns for a fresh run. Without un- 
broken advance there is no such thing as accumulation of the 
ethical forces possible, and to make this possible, and to exercise 
us and habituate us in it, is the sovereign blessing of regular 
work. . . . The actual presence of the practical opportunity 
alone furnishes the fulcrum upon which the lever can rest, by 
means of which the moral will may multiply its strength and 
raise itself aloft. He, who has no solid ground to press against, 
will never get beyond the stage of empty gesture-making." 

And finally, let us keep the faculty of effort alive by continual 
exercise. The carrying out of certain fixed purposes should never 
be interrupted. There must ever be perseverance and a continual 
following up of the first success, and each subsequent advantage 
as well, until the highest of principles are deeply and indelibly 
fixed and become our own acquisition through the law of habit. 



LESSON XYIII. 

ATTENTION, 

F(iR the purpose of illustration, let us suppose that you are 
reading an interesting book; you are bo interested in its con- 
tents that you are unmindful of surrounding conditions. You 
do not hear the clock strike; you are unaware of the noisy 
clamor of the street; the clatter of horses' hoofs, the rumble of 
carriages, the rattle of carts, and tread of passers-by are all un- 
heard by you ; you do not recognize the changes that take place 
in the temperature of the room; you are unaware of the time as 
it flies by so rapidly. The chair that has seemed uncomfortable 
heretofore could not now be improved upon; the light that has 
previously seemed dim and most trying is now most satisfactory; 
the room that has hitherto seemed a dingy den is practically 
the cosiest of quarters. 

You ask : What is the cause of all this? The attention of my 
student friend is fixed upon the book he is reading; his entire 
consciousness is so concentrated upon it that there is no con- 
sciousness left for other sources of sensation, which, for the 
time being, are of little or no interest to him. Then you see 
the sensRtions of which we are self-conscious depend upon at- 
tention. I have read of students (I have never met them) so en- 
grossed in their studies that they would be utterly oblivious of 
surrounding circumstances, even letting the fire go out and al- 
lowing their rooms to become freezing cold without knowing it, 
so interested were they in their lessons. I know a banker who 
frequently forgets to eat his noon luncheon, he is so interested in 
the work of his office. "The scholar poring over a mutilated 
passage of ancient manuscript, to the neglect of his appetite, or 
the naturalist patiently observing the movements of insects or 
of plants, indifferent to cold and wet," each supplies another 

(221) 



222 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

example, illustrating a high power of prolonged concentration. 
Carpenter tells us of the celebrated Braunschweig mathematician, 
Gauss, who, w'hile engaged in one of his most profound investi- 
gations, was interrupted by a servant telling him that his wife 
(to whom he was most deeply attached, and who was at this 
time seriously ill) was very much worse. " He seemed to hear 
what was said to him, but either he did not comprehend it, or 
immediately forgot it and went on with his work. After some 
little time the servant came again to say that his wife was sink- 
ing rapidly, and begged that he come at once to her bedside, to 
which he replied, « I will come presently.' Again he relapsed into 
his previous train of thought, entirely forgetting the intention 
he had expressed, most probably without having distinctly real- 
ized to himself the import either of the communication or of his 
answer to it. For not long after when the servant came again 
and assured him that his mistress was dying, and that if he did 
not come immediately he would probably not find her alive, he 
lifted his eyes for a moment and calmly replied : ' Tell her to wait 
till I come,' a message he had doubtless often before sent when 
pressed by his wife's request for his presence while he was simi- 
larly occupied," 

What we actually perceive depends on attention. Let the 
logger, the artist, the weary traveler and the hunter approach 
the same forest and each will place a different estimate upon 
it, because each looks at it from a different point of view. 
Each sees a different forest from that perceived by any of the 
others. The logger calculates the number of "lumber-feet" the 
choice timber will produce. The artist observes the grace of 
trunk, the coloring of leaf, form and outline, light and shadow. 
The weary traveler appreciates it for its delightful shade and 
mossy bed. The hunter values it chiefly for the game that can be 
secured within it. You have no doubt heard the story of the 
Kentucky gentlemen who regarded a beautiful grove as of little 
value because "neither coon nor opossum had been caught in 
that grove for eight years." What one perceives, depends on 
the features of the object to which one gives his attention. Each 



ATTENTION. 223 

of the four — logger, artist, traveler, hunter— perceives a different 
forest from that perceived by the other, because each attends to 
a feature or characteristic quite different from that which occu- 
pies the mind of the other. I myself have walked a thousand 
times along the same path without having observed a certain 
little crooked tree which was pointed out just yesterday by my 
little four-year-old the first time he passed by. 

Attention is in every sense the prime condition of all mental 
operations. Every form of intellectual activity includes some 
form of attention. Now as all mental growth is merely theresult 
of intellectual activity and since intellectual activity involves at- 
tention, you can readily see how intimately associated are the 
active increase of mental powers— real mental growth— and the 
power of attention. Voluntary attention, which is ordinarily 
labelled "concentration," lies at the basis of all accurate obser- 
vation, clear memory images, reasoning, feeling, in fact all men- 
tal activity. The vividness of our associated impressions is 
directly dependent on the amount of attention given to them the 
first time they were perceived. Present impressions never ex- 
ert their full force in calling up associated impresssions except 
when they are kept before the mind by an act of attention. 

We know that the same act of knowledge, whether it be in the 
realm of hearing or the realm of vision or of touch — no matter in 
what domain — the same act of knowledge may be performed with 
greater or less energy. I may be endeavoring to see a certain 
star in some well-known constellation, and desire to see it in its 
relation to the other stars comprising the group. I may make 
but little effort and am rewarded by seeing but little. In fact the 
amount of knowledge gained is almost directly dependent upon 
the amount of effort used in the endeavor to gain the item of 
knowledge. Now the greater or less effort employed in the pro- 
cesses of knowing is called attention. Looked at etymologically, 
we find that attention is first a form of the word "tension" and 
means the effort with which any one of the mental processes may 
be accompanied. As such an active tension of the mental powers, 
attention is opposed to the relaxed state of mind in which there 



224 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

is no conscious exertion to fix the mind on any particular object. 
What the teacher calls inattention (and properly too) is the list- 
less, drowsy state as differenced from the state of spontaneous 
and wakeful activity. 

Before the rise of attention the soul is in a sort of comatose 
state, allied to a state of dreamless sleep. The mind is aroused 
from this stupid, lethargic condition when it begins to attend to 
some sensational excitement. Were it not for the acts of atten- 
tion, man would always lead a vegetative sort of existence He 
would be ever in the condition of infantine stupor and lethargy 
which characterizes the early days of existence. Were it not for his 
first act of attention, which is evoked by some sense stimuli and 
consequent excitation, he would ever remain as irresponsive, 
dumb, unfeeling and unintelligent as an oyster. He would pos- 
sess no power of self-direction and would be no more than a mere 
rudderless bark, or a log floating here and there in an aimless 
way, drifting with wind and tide — the sport of the elements. 

In what way does an act of attention really contribute to 
mental growth? My own view is that the first result is an im- 
provement in the discriminative ability of the senses which, as 
has been pointed out in a previous chapter, lies at the basis of 
all exact comparision, accurate memory and precise reasoning. 
Suppose for example, you are hefting weights. You desire to tell 
which of two is the heavier. To do so correctly you must attend 
to what you are doing. You cannot listen to a conversation 
and at the same time judge between two weights with the same 
degree of certainty you experience when you attend to the weights 
and the weights only. You are listening to the strains of the violin. 
Two tones are produced that are only different by the slightest 
shade of interval. This slight difference will be unobserved unless 
close attention is paid to the sounds as they are produced. Sup- 
pose again, you are trying to judge the texture of cloth, or the 
thickness and quality of writing paper, by the sense of touch. To 
do even this simple thing well, you must attend to what you are 
doing or your sense discrimination will be at fault. The imme- 
diate effect of an act of attention is that greater force, vividness 



ATTENTION. 225 

and distinctness are given to the object before the mind, because 
one's discriminative ability is improved thereby. Why can the 
ten-year-old boy tell one railroad engine from another simply by 
the sound of the bell, while you or I cannot? Simply because he 
has attended to this peculiar feature of the locomotive while you 
and I have not done so. How is it that the stock buyer can 
guess so nearly the correct weight of a beef, hog or sheep and you 
or I would miss it by many pounds? You say because "it is in his 
line." This merely means that he, in order to succeed in his busi- 
ness, must attend to such things, while you and I need not do so. 

Just as our sensations are rendered more distinct and clear by 
our attending to them, so are all our other mental activities simi- 
larly affected. Note in our acts of memory. Have you not fre- 
quently thought of this — that what we actually remember depends 
directly upon what we attend to? Tell a story to two children. 
Let one of the children be seated in your lap where he can watch 
every expression of face, eyes- and lips, catch every sound, 
note every change in modulation and quality of voice and 
perceive every significant gesture. Let the other be occupied in 
building block houses on the floor, or putting together a dis- 
sected map. Is it a matter of conjecture as to which child will be 
best able to reproduce the story — will remember the best? Why 
is it the old man remembers so well the incident of his early life 
and can remember scarcely at all what happened yesterday? 
Why, simply because he was more interested in his boyhood ex- 
periences — he attended to them more closely than he did to the 
events of yesterday. 

Then our chains of reasoning, our conclusions gained by reflec- 
tion, are very dependent upon our acts of attention. Take, for 
example, the discovery and application of that law of cause and 
effect in the narrow domain of individual experience. The savage 
sees the rifle for the first time. When it is discharged he hears 
the explosion and sees the antelope fall. He reasons that the 
noise of the explosion killed the antelope, because the sound 
was the prime object of his attention. My little four-year-old 
boy came to me only yesterday insisting that his shoes be pol- 

L. p.— 16 



226 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY 

ished so they would " squeak." He observed long ago that ne'.v 
shoes squeaked, and attributed this to the most vivid picture in 
his child mind — the gloss or polish of the shoe itself. 

To Newton, seated in his garden smoking his pipe, the falling 
apple suggested the universal law of gravitation. Why? Simply 
because his attention was fixed upon the resemblance between 
the fall of the apple and the revolution of the heavenly bodies. 

Likewise, in the domain of feeling an exceedingly important 
element is contributed by the attentive power. Take such a feel- 
ing as that of disgust — the more you attend to it and think of the 
provoking cause, the more intense is the feeling itself. In the 
higher emotions of sympathy, pity and the like, we find that the 
amount of attention given to the object determines the intensity 
and scope of our feelings of commiseration. The sensuous thrill 
of music is not experienced by one who is inattentive. The mas- 
ter painting evokes no sublime thoughts in the mind of him who 
does not really study the painting in connection with the ideal it 
represents. So it is with our bodily pleasures and pains. In 
times of excitement when the attention is diverted, the keen, cut- 
ting pangs of neuralgia and rheumatism are for the time being 
unnoticed and not perceived. It is known that soldiers wounded 
in battle have hardly felt any pain at the time, so excited were 
they by the fray. I carry an ugly scar on my body which was 
caused by a serious wound when about ten years of age, but which 
I never felt until after the excitement of the ball game was over. 

Our choices or acts of will also depend largely upon the amount 
and direction of the attention exerted. Suppose the boy has a 
lesson to get and another boy invites him to go along with him 
to see the circus parade. Will he go or will he remain and study 
his lesson? That depends on which of the two possible lines of 
activity he gives most attention to in his thought about the 
matter. If he dwell in thought only on the fun of seeing the cir- 
cus and does not permit his mind to dwell on the consequences of 
neglecting his task, he will go to the show. But if these condi- 
tions be reversed and he think of the humiliation a failure at his 
lessons will entail, of the displeasure it will cause his parents, the 



ATTENTION. 227 

probability of getting a " black mark," etc., he will in all proba- 
bility remain at his lessons, though hard it may be. So it is in 
reforming and helping men. You cannot change individuals by 
merely prohibiting certain lines of conduct. The everlasting 
"No" which confronts us on every hand never makes manor 
child one whit better. To improve and elevate man means that 
a new possible line of activity must be placed before him. 
This new object must be of a kind to interest him— to enlist his 
attention and thereby gain his affection. '< The expulsive power 
of a new affection " is the law expressive of the changes that take 
place in men's lives. To illustrate, in a crude way, what I mean : 
I am standing before my class busily talking to them. While 
thus engaged, and oblivious of all surroundings, I feel the touch 
of a friend on my shoulder. I turn from my class to this friend. 
It is one act. I turn from class to friend. So in all changes. 
Men do not first renounce and then take up something new, but 
do both at once. The gospel of mere renunciation is the gospel 
of negation. So with your pupils, do not insist on their lopping 
off certain habits before entering new lines of activity and con- 
duct. Simply show the child something \vemay ^o — not what 
he must not do — and make this new possible line interesting to 
him, i. e., enlist his attention and if you do this successfully, the 
old objectionable habit will atrophy. 

Perhaps this brief survey will indicate to us something of the 
important function that attention fulfills in our mental economy. 
The chief function of education is simply to direct the attention 
along proper lines and see to it that the attention sustains itself 
when certain of the more important and vital facts are brought 
up for consideration. You readily see that the great differ- 
ence between the educated and the uneducated man is found in 
the fact that the former has great capacity for close, steady, sus- 
tained, concentrated attention. The importance of training the 
attention can scarcely be overestimated. When you say to your 
pupils, "Give me your attention," what do you really mean? 
You mean that you want them to stop thinking of the game of 
" one-old-cat " played at recess ; of the examination to come at the 



228 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

end of the month ; of the surreptitious note — indeed of everything 
except what you are saying, by simply allowing what you are say- 
ing to comeintotheclearest sell-consciousness in their own minds. 
An inattentive mind is an absent mind. We call people who fail 
to attend to certain of the common affairs of daily life that so 
intimately concern them, "absent-minded." In the first school 
I taught there was a very observant little boy, whose seat was 
near a window. I remember one day when asking the primary 
class, of which he was a member, to name all the various kinds of 
flowers they had ever seen; several were named, when up went 
little Walter's hand with a vigorous eagerness that seemed quite 
unusual. I gave him a nod of permission to speak, thinking 
lie would add his contribution to the list of flowers already named 
by his fellow pupils. But no ! He broke out with the explosive 
remark, "Oh, Teacher! there's ten or forty pids (pigs) in the 
school yard!" Little good did the crude lesson on flowers do 
him. He was not attending to the matter under consideration. 
His mind was " absent " so far as the lesson of the class was con- 
cerned . 

You may have discovered in your own experience that there 
are two kinds of attention, just as we show later that there are 
two kinds of memory. I will illustrate what I mean. You are 
reading a rather dry, uninteresting book. You find it "up-hill" 
work. You hear a foot-step on the pavement below. You are 
tempted to look out of the window, and do so, to see who is pass- 
ing by. It is only by a supreme effort that you get your mind 
back to your reading. Or you are in church; the sermon may 
not be very interesting, at least not so interesting as the bonnet 
or cloak worn by your neighbor. Your mind wanders from this to 
that object, and finally you find yourself thinking of something 
quite remote from the services going on in your bodily presence. 
Only by direct act of will can you focus your attention upon the 
sermon. 

This leads us to name the two kinds of attention, voluntary 
and non-voluntary. In holding our attention down to the one 
thing — the book or sermon — in spite of its effort to wander 



ATTENTION. 229 

here and there, in the effort to so focus our mental power, we are 
performing an act of voluntary attention. But when the mind 
wanders here, there and yonder, flitting from object to object 
like a restless bird, without any direction or conscious effort 
on our part, we have n on- voluntary attention. It is the mere 
force of the object that holds the mind in the latter case, while 
in the former, we attend to a thing in obedience to our wish to 
know about it, and by an effort of will we direct our mind to 
investigate the fact that is consciously sought out. Or, to put it 
more clearly : In non-voluntary attention there is but one thing 
that influences the mind — the thing attended to; in voluntary 
attention there are two things — the thing attended to and 
some reason, motive or desire for attending to it. Voluntary 
attention may be distinguished by the presence of an aim or 
purpose. We attend vohmtarily when we are desirous of gaining 
some pleasure, information, knowledge, or some real or imagined 
benefit from the object or thought which presents itself. 

Some of us saw the great and terrible conflagratioh at the 
World's Fair Grounds last summer. I refer to the fire which de- 
stroyed the Cold Storage building in which nineteen brave men 
lost their lives. The ten thousand of us who stood helplessly by, 
as the men leaped from the lofty tower into the blazing furnace 
of fire, could not help but attend to the horrible sight. The eyes 
of every observer were riveted in morbid curiosity on the burning 
building and the bits of humanity leaping through the air to 
instant death, wondering what would next take place. One could 
scarcely turn from the horrible scene if he would. This close, 
steady observation of the burning building, while the person 
himself is utterly unmindful of the fact that he is standing up to 
his knees in water, can be styled an act of non-voluntary atten- 
tion. But suppose there is a banker's clerk in the crowd who 
realizes that he must get his books and papers back to the bank 
before three o'clock or lose his position. Remembering this and 
turning reluctantly away — tearing himself away by sheer force 
from the terrible but fascinating scene— he indulges in an act of 
voluntary attention. 



230 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSTCHOLOOT. 

Very young children are, of course, incapable of voluntary at- 
tention. The least degree of observation will quite readily con- 
firm this. In the very first days there is scarcely any attention 
of any kind. The intellectual life of the new-born child consists 
of a maze of confused sensations which gradually break into clear 
consciousness, shading through non-voluntary attention and the 
various degrees of voluntary attention, until the individual can 
of himself direct his own mind in its activities and search for 
knowledge. 

This leads me to speak of a related fact, namely, that thestira- 
ulus to an act of attention may be either something external — 
connected with the object attended to— or something internal. 
An external stimulus consists of some interesting feature or strik- 
ing characteristic of the object itself by means of which the atten- 
tion is attracted and arrested. For example, the child's atten- 
tion is aroused by the brilliant yellow of the orange, the tinkle of 
the bell, or the "cuckoo " of the clock. An internal stimulus, as 
you already surmise, is a motive or impulse in the mind, which 
motive or impulse prompts the child to put forth its attention in 
a particular direction, such as the desire of a child to please his 
teacher, or to gain a " head mark," or stand well in his class, or 
to bat out a "liner" every time he plays ball. Under these two 
sorts of stimuli — the external and internal — the child's power of 
attention develops with wonderful rapidity. 

As long as the child is capable of non-voluntary attention only, 
he is at the mercy of mere outer impressions — the effects of exter- 
nal stimuli upon his sensorium. "As the course of a stream de- 
pends upon the slope of the ground, so the direction of his atten- 
tion depends upon the attractiveness of his sensations." 

But one cannot go far in the exercise of the non-voluntary 
attention without developing the power to attend voluntarily. 
Every act of non-voluntary attention on the part of the child 
makes every act of voluntary attention easier. In his acts of non- 
voluntary attention he is storing up memory images of impres- 
sions pleasant and painful. This leads him to seek out those im- 
pressions that give him pleasure and delight, and so voluntary 



ATTENTION. 



231 



attention begins. These first acts of voluntary attention may take 
place almost any time after the child is a month old. 

Now in the next place, the underlying presupposition of mod- 
ern Psychology, that all mental processes have a physical basis, 
requires us to examine the processes of attention with a view to 
discover their physiological correlate or "nervous" substrate. 
That there is such a substrate is quite apparent in many forms 
of attention. With reference to nearly all the data coming 
through the active senses — touch with movement, vision, etc. — 
it is evident that the muscular apparatus of the particular organ 
engaged — e.^., the hand or eye — is clearly brought into action. 
To attend to any visible object, for example, a pyrotechnic dis- 
play of sky rockets, 
fiery serpents, Roman 
candles, pin -wheels 
and the like, is to di- 
rect the eye to it by 
appropriate c o 6 r d i- 
nation of its muscles 
and accommodation 
of the lens. Certain 
muscles are thus in- 
nervated and produce 
movements as the 
concomitant of a sim- 
ple act of attention. While this is going on, certain other mus- 
cles are inhibited from acting. Close attention, of necessity, 
involves arrest of movement, as is seen in the cessation of loco- 
motion, the arrest of respiration and the modification of the 
secretions during an intense effort of thought. 

By an act of will attention may be intensified and accomodated 
to the object, with a marked influence upon the quickness and ac- 
curacy of the mental processes. Voluntary increase of attention 
diminishes the time rate of mental processes, while dispersed or 
distracted attention increases it. These two changes in the clear- 
ness of our perceptions take place in dependence upon the changes 




Figure 39. 



232 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

in the amount of atteution. This is verified in our commonest 




Figure 40. 

experiences. On awaking gradually from sleep our surroundings 
become less and less obscure to our various senses as the degree 




Figure 41. 

of voluntary attention progressively rises. The voluntary at- 
tention of the individual will oftentimes dissolve an illusion of 



ATTENTION. 



233 



sense and can change the entire appearance of the visual object. 
For example, in Fig. 39, the same arrangement of lines may be 
seen entire, as a staircase or a portion of an overhanging wall, i. 
e., the point a in the figure can be made to appear either nearer 
or farther off than b. 

So in figures 40 and 41 we can see the system of lines in either of 

Figure 42. 

several ways, according as we direct the attention; thus Fig. 40 
maybe perceived as a hollow cube opening on any of its aides. 
We can see it just as we desire to see it, by directing our attention 



i^^«^^ 




Figure 43. 

to this or that feature making it especially prominent. Likewise 
Fig. 41 can be made to recede or stand out in relief. 

In Fig. 42 there is a series of similar objects so arranged that 




Figure 44. 

certain characteristics are emphasized, thus claiming the atten- 
tion, and the entire figure or series suggests motion. 

In the second series (Fig. 43) the same figures are used, but so 
arranged as to intensify certain points other than those brought 
out in the first series — and the entire series suggests rest. 

In Fig. 44 we have the same objects arranged in a still different 



234 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

order, and the attention is called to certain special features in 
the arrangement so that the entire figure suggests opposite 
motion. 

The skillful etcher takes advantage of us and causes us 
to see what is not but ought to be, in the image thrown on the 
retinal mosaic. He furnishes us with a tew crude lines and the 
mind supplies the rest. When a young child in the primary 
school, I had some difficulty in spelling the word "together." 
My teacher called my attention to the fact that it could be sepa- 
rated into three little words, "to" "get" "her," so the word 
stuck to me in the form of that rather forced set of associations, 
and I cannot rid myself of it. So in waiting for a footstep the 
anxious mother strains her attention, and the slightest noise is 
for the instant interpreted as the sound she so longs to hear. 
The track athlete, waiting for the discharge of the pistol (the 
signal as he starts in the hundred-yard dash), will construe almost 
any noise to be the chosen signal. He will make many a " false 
start" at the snap of a finger, the click of the pistol hammer, or 
the crackle of a broken stick. Why? Because his attention is so 
heightened that every muscle is tense, and the object thought of 
— the quickest possible run — tends to realize itself in movement 
at once. Prof. James instances the case of the meaningless 
French words, "pas de lieu Rhone que nous." Who can recognize 
immediately the English, " paddle your own canoe? " But who 
that has once noticed the identity can escape having it arrest his 
attention again and again? You have no doubt heard the tale 
of the maiden lady, rather ancient and experienced, but none the 
less ambitious and aspiring (at the same time quite sensi- 
tive), who attended a religious meeting where the song "Put 
your armor on, my boys," was sung. As soon as the hymn was 
announced she jumped up from her seat and rushed from the 
room, relating afterward that she would not go to such a 
"horrid " meeting again, for they sang, " Put your arm around 
me, boys." 

Take another example, a simple diagram like that shown in Pig. 
45. We see it sometimes as two large, superimposed triangles, 



ATTENTION. 235 

again as a hexagon, with angles spanning its sides, and sometimes 




FiGUBE 45. 
as six small triangles stuck together at their corners. The inside of 
a common pasteboard mask or "false-face," when painted like the 

a 





e 

Figure 46. 



outside and looked at with one eye in direct light, looks convex 



236 



PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 



instead of hollow. Or bend an ordinary visiting card across the 
middle so that its halves form an angle of about 90° ; set it up- 
right on the table as in Fig. 46, and look at it steadily with one 
eye. You can make it appear to open towards you or away from " 
you — can make it seem concave or convex, almost at will. 

Also in Fig. 47, the ordinary representation of a scroll or 
rolled sheet of paper, one can make either the right or left half 
seem concave or convex at will. When the right half appears con- 
vex the left appears concave, and vice versa. 

A two-colored painting or draw- 
ing appears quite different accord- 
ing as a person comprehends the 
one or the other color as the 
background. The perplexing and 
tantalizing pictures which some- 
times appear as grotesque forms 
and dancing sprites among the 
branches of the trees, especially 
when looked at against the clear 
sky, do so very readily if one con- 
ceives the bright sky as the object 
and the dark branches as the back- 
ground of the picture. 

Soj'ou can make wall-paper pat- 
terns assume many fantastic and 
grotesque shapes at will. Individ- 
uals have eyes for what they wish to see — ears for what they 
yearn to hear, and so on throughout all the sense and thought 
domain. ^ 

But it may also be said that voluntary attention, since it is in 
all probability correlated with the activity of the highest, latest 
developed, most sensitive, and most easily deranged nerve-cen- 
ters, offers an excellent and important means of estimating men- 
tal health, growth and vigor. [In a subsequent chapter we supply 
a series of specific tests that are well calculated to determine these 
points.] Mental disease is commonly attended with disturb- 



FlGURE 47. 



ATTENTION. 237 

ances of the normal process of attention. When a man is unable 
to throw off the cares of business and ceases to give a normal 
proportion of his attention to other interests, we have the mani- 
festation of an incipient tendency to morbidness of the mental 
functions. 

Now on what does the amount or degree of attention depend? 
The amount of attention exerted in any mental act depends on 
two chief conditions : (a) the quantity of nervous energy dispos- 
able at the time; {b) the strength of the stimulus whosefunction 
it is to rouse the attention. The first condition is directly de- 
pendent upon the state of bodily health, the amount and kind of 
nourishment the person receives, the time of day, etc. Thus, a 
healthy, vigorous child, in the early hours of the day has a sur- 
plus of energy which manifests itself in an exaggerated degree of 
attention to the smallest, and ordinarily most unattractive, of 
objects. On the other hand, a tired, weak, poorly-nourished 
child requires a more potent stimulus to arouse him into mental 
activity. 

The nature of the process of attention has been considerably 
cleared up by recent experiments. For a long time it has been 
disputed as to how many impressions can be attended to at once. 
Of course, in a general way it must be remembered that the num- 
ber of things to which we can attend is altogether indefinite, de- 
pending on the power of the individual intellect and also on what 
the things are. The old-time philosophers maintained that the 
" unity of the soul " precluded the presence of more than one ob- 
jective fact or thought at the time. This artificial view was given 
to us in childhood by our teachers, who said it was absolutely 
impossible to do two things at once — a dictum, the falsity of 
which was demonstrated by the boys at recess, who would "rat- 
tle the bones " with the hand and at the same time sing a song of 
a very different measure. I once saw a " freak " on exhibition at a 
State Fair, who could write a selection of German poetry with his 
right hand and at the same time write a prose selection with his 
left — not letting his "left hand know what the right hand doeth." 
M. Paulhan has experimented quite extensively on the matter of 



238 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

divided attention by declaiming one poem aloud while he re- 
peated a different one mentally, or by writing one sentence while 
uttering another, or by calculating certain sums on paper while 
reciting poetry. Paulhan compared the time occupied by any 
two operations done simultaneously and separately, and found 
that there was a considerable gain of time when done simultane- 
ously. He himself says : "I write the first four verses of Athalie 
whilst reciting eleven of Musset. The whole performance occu- 
pies 40 seconds. But reciting alone takes 22 and writing alone 
takes 31, so that there is a difference of 13 seconds in favor of the 
simultaneous operations. ... I multiply 421, 312, 212 by 2; 
the operation takes 6 seconds; the recitation of four verses 
also takes 6 seconds. But the two operations done at once take 
only 6 seconds, so that there is no loss of time from combining 
them." 

Recent experiments show that when a number of small objects, 
as lines or letters, are placed suflBciently close together to be seen 
simultaneously, and presented to the eye just long enough for 
the excitation of the retina (about j^-^ of a second), four, five, or 
even six objects can be grasped simultaneously by the attention. 
Professor Jevons, by counting instantaneously beans thrown 
into a box, found that the number 6 was guessed correctly 120 
limes out of 147 ; 5 correctly 102 times out of 107 ; 4 and 3 al- 
ways right. Professor Cattell made a similar series of experi- 
ments in a more thorough-going and precise way. Cards were 
ruled with short lines, varying in number from four to fifteen, and 
exposed to the eye for j^-^ of a second. When the number of lines 
exposed was but four or five, as a rule no mistakes were made. For 
higher numbers the tendency was to under rather than over esti- 
mate. Similar experiments tried with letters and figures gave the 
same result. I have often found the same thing in a much cruder 
experiment. When asking a class to glance just for an instant 
at a chandelier, they would never fail to perceive the exact num- 
ber of gas jets composing the chandelier, when there were six or 
less in number. My lecture room is partitioned on the one side 
by a series of glass window panes and oak panels. There are 



ATTENTION. 239 

thirty-five of these panes of glass, but on asking my students 
after a momentary glance, the estimate was from 25 to 32. 

In the case of such related objects, of course more than one can 
be attended to at the same time. In the less automatic processes 
not more than one ought be attended to at once, for it cannot be 
done advantageously, in spiteof the fact that Julius Casarissaid 
to have dictated four letters while he himself wrote a fifth, for in 
the more complicated mental acts there must of necessity be a 
great deal of oscillation from one object to another, and con- 
sequently no gain of time. 

We now coRie to consider the relation of interest to attention. 
We know that a prolonged monotonous impression fails to hold 
the attention. The constant whirl of the mill's machinery soon 
ceases to be heard by the one who works in the mill or lives near it. 
Such a prolonged monotonous impression has little or no effect, 
because it soon loses its novelty and ceases to enlist the attention. 
Every teacher knows that if he frequently or continually addresses 
his pupils in loud tones, he misses the advantage of occasionally 
raising his voice. I noticed quite frequently, when visiting the 
Volksscbule in Germany, that they were noisier than our own 
schools simply because the teacher habitually spoke in the tone 
used to command a brigade of soldiers ; and I also noticed that 
the children paid no heed to ordinary suggestions, but each de- 
sire of the teacher had to be expressed in the form of a command, 
and the child did not seem to think he was expected to obey un- 
less the teacher came upon him like an avalanche. 

We know that a sudden change of impressions, such as is pro- 
duced by the unexpected firing of a gun, the flash of lightning, or 
brilliant flowers growing from cold, gray granite on the moun- 
tain side, acts as a powerful excitant on the attentive powers. 
Novelty plays an important part with reference to our acts of 
attention. The enterprising merchant realizes this when he prints 
his advertisement in "flaming colors," or heads it with start- 
ling expressions. Something new attracts the attention because 
it stands in contrast to our ordinary run of experience. The 
child, like ourselves, will attend only to what interests him. This 



240 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

feeling of interest (which attracts and holds the attention) may 
arise in Anrious waj-s. 

(1) Interest is aroused when the object itself or the thought 
presented is beautiful or attractive, i. e., gives pleasure in the 
very act of attending to it. Thus the babe will keep his eyes fixed 
for a considerable time on a bright ball, or will listen attentively 
to a bell, because of the pleasurable effect produced. Whoever 
heard of a boy going to sleep at a circus ? The same boy who 
stares into vacancy when the teacher holds forth on "common 
fractions" will be all eyes and ears when attending a "Christmas 
Tree" entertainment. The boy who can scarcely be induced to 
carry an armful of wood or bucket of coal for his mother, gets up 
before dajiight to get an opportunity to carry water for the ele- 
phant of the traveling show. Pleasure is really the mainspring 
of nearly all our actions. 

(2) Another productive source of interest is the connection or 
relation that the thing under consideration bears to previous 
pleasant or painful experiences. The child who cannot subtract 
17 from 31 in the abstract, can do so readily if you ask him to 
perform the operation with reference to something concrete, for 
example, marbles. The thought of a game of marbles lendsinter- 
est to the usually dry and tedious lesson in arithmetic. A child will 
always listen to whatever is related to its own familiar pleasures 
and amusements. Likewise, the attention is immediately enlisted 
in all those acts that are connected with the child's painful ex- 
periences. States of fear, suffering and pain are emphatically 
items of his experience and all ideas that can be conceived as as- 
sociates with them, immediately elicit the most profound interest. 
The child will listen to a pitiful tale of a boy lost in the woods, 
pursued by bears, etc., until your story makes him weep. But 
in spite of the pain the story gives him, he insists on having it 
told over and over again. Every painful and pleasurable experi- 
ence that comes to the child serves to rivet his attention upon 
all ideas, thoughts and objects in any way related to that experi- 
ence, and gives birth to what is known in practical life as interest. 

(3) Interest of the more intellectual sort arises out of what is 



ATTENTION. 241 

commonly termed curiosity. The child's attention is attracted 
by what is new, strange and mysterious. If he see a full-grown 
cucumber in a bottle whose opening at the neck is but a quarter 
of an inch in diameter, he at once is curious to know how it ever 
got in the bottle. If he see a light extinguished when lowered 
into a jar of carbonic dioxide, he wants to know the cause. This 
makes it incumbent upon the teacher to lay the facts to be ac- 
quired by the child, before him in such a way that he may discover 
some of them for himself. That is, do not tell the child every- 
thing, but let his curiosity be aroused, his interest elicited, and 
he will discover certain new facts for himself, and they will stick 
to him better than all you could tell him. 

(4) Another secret of interest, perhaps its greatest and most 
fruitful source, is in adaptation. The sled, blocks, dolls, toy 
watches and games of childhood amuse the child because they 
are just suited to his stage of development, and make certain 
demands on his powers stimulating him to exercise them. The 
teacher, if he expects to interest the pupils, must place before 
them tasks that they a re able to perform and lessons that they can 
easily comprehend, in order that their powers may be strength- 
ened for greater achievements when there are "more worlds to 
conquer." So it behooves the teacher to continually study the 
child's mind, to learn its contents and " take stock '" of its ideas. 
Unless we know our pupils thoroughly we can ncvpr perfectly 
adapt our teaching to them. 

Again, we can help our pupils in becoming interested and main- 
taining their interest, thus developing their powers of concentra- 
tion, if we judiciously arrange our daily programs of study and 
recitations. You may use your fingers in manipulating the keys 
of a typewriter until they are painfully tired ; you may employ 
your eyes in reading fine print until they ache, but at the same time 
you may be able to walk without any sense of fatigue. In like 
manner certain of the intellectual powers may be engaged in the 
exercise of their functions until they are fatigued, while the rest 
remain comparatively fresh and vigorous. Now we know that 
change in work, either with reference to bodily or mental activi- 

L. P.— 10 



242 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

ties, is refreshing. This should be borne in mind in the arrange- 
ment of our programs. History nnd Geographj^ both tax the 
memory severely. Hence neither should follow the other, and so 
on with other subjects. Greatest skill and painstaking care are 
necessary that the best order of studies may be determined. 

Furthermore, no compulsion of teacher has ever succeeded in 
making a child's mind embrace an uninteresting subject. You 
cannot make the child concentrate his attention. The best you 
can do is to sway his attention by the leverage of interesting 
features, which may be made to appear in connection with 
the subject you desire to present to his mind for assimilation. 
Attention cannot possibly be removed from the sway of interest. 
It is, in a sense, unfortunate that many subjects do not disclose 
attractiveness on the surface, but only after they have been more 
closely examined and investigated. 

Attention is therefore the great conditioning factor in our 
intellectual life. All kinds of acquisition depend, both with ref- 
erence to its rapidity and the permanence of the results, on the 
energy of the attention brought to bear, and it is a well-authenti- 
cated fact and a proverbial statement, that one of the distin- 
guishing characteristics of great productive intellect is an ex- 
ceptional power of mental concentration. The power of intense 
and prolonged concentration and of resistance to all distrac- 
tion, is one of the highest displays of intellectual and will force. 
In fact, all great intellectual achievement of necessity involves 
energy of will. 

The importance of the power of voluntary attention in the 
economy of the mind's life and activity behooves us to make pos- 
sible the careful development of it in the ordinary channels of 
education. It is certain that this is exceedingly desirable. In a 
later chapter we take this matter up in a more detailed manner. 
But we can here call attention to one or two general considera- 
tions. 

(1) The aim should be to train the will to perfect concentra- 
tion and control of the thoughts. The power of sustained atten- 
tion increases with the ability to resist and overcome distraction. 



ATTENTION. 243 

To concentrate the mind is to fix it persistently upon an object, 
and so intently that all irrelevant objects are excluded. 

(2) It should be the aim of educational methods to develop 
a sufficient diversity of intellectual interest so as to secure a flex- 
ibility and readiness of adjustment when various objects are 
brought under consideration. This latter capacity alone makes 
possible a wide culture and liberal education, which are not only 
ornamental and beneficial as accomplishments, but are also con- 
ducive to the best mental healtb. 

Finally, voluntary attention, like all our voluntary acts, may 
be perfected in the form of habits. You remember we mentioned 
the point in the preceding chapter that habits contribute to the 
facility with which an act may be performed. The first manifesta- 
tions of voluntary concentration come as a result of sheer will 
force and mental effort. Very soon after many such repeated 
will-efforts, a habit of attention makes its appearance in the form 
of a readiness to attend when certain conditions are present. 
Later on, this assumes the character of a more permanent atti- 
tude of attentiveness which marks off the true observer and stu- 
dent from the riff-raff of mankind. 



LESSON XIX. 

THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 

If you think about anything at all, even for a moment, you 
find yourself immediately after, thinking about something else 
connected with it. Think about your childhood home and you 
may think of the house itself, its location, your parents, your 
child pla3^mates,the old-time games of "leap-frog," "town ball," 
or "prisoners base," the favorite fruit trees, the trout brook or 
the hill, down which like lazy Ned we used to coast upon the "fine 
new sled and beat the other boys." Someor all of these thoughts 
may follow each other in quick succession. Think of Chicago and 
you may think of the World's Fair, of how tired you became while 
sight-seeing, of Midway Plaisance, of Cairo Street, the Ferris 
wheel, and this, because of its massiveness and representation 
of engineering skill, may make you think of the Brooklyn Bridge, 
and then of the man who committed suicide by jumping from 
the bridge to the East Eiver below. Thus you see, each mental 
event, each thought, each idea tends to suggest another men- 
tal event, thought or idea. Dr. Hickok expresses the whole 
matter in his own admirable way when he says, " The representa- 
tives of former objects of thought, when they have fallen, as it 
were, into memory, do not lie in this common receptacle sepa- 
rately. They are as clusters on the vine, attached one to another 
by some law of connection peculiar to the case, and which has 
its general determination for all minds, and its particular modifi- 
cations for some minds. When one is called up in recollection it 
does not, therefore, come up singly, but brings the whole cluster 
along with it." This fact, namely: that thinking of anything 
leads us to think of something else, is called the association of 
ideas. Just a moment ago I addressed a letter to a friend. 
(244) 



THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 245 

While writing the superscription I happened to think of an ad- 
dressed envelope I once saw at the Dead Letter Office. The 
letter was addressed to a party in " Alabama, Connecticut." Of 
course there is no such town in Connecticut. But the postal 
authorities with their far-seeing skill, acquired by long experience, 
decided to send the letter to Birmingham, Connecticut, which was 
done and resulted in reaching the person for whom the letter was 
intended. Now how did such a mistake occur ? Simply because 
of the association of ideas which took place in the mind of the 
writer as he addressed the letter. In all probability when think- 
ing of Birmingham, Connecticut, the city of the same name in 
Alabama (Birmingham), came to his mind, and thinking intently 
of the fact that there existed a Birmingham in Alabama, his 
hand unbidden, wrote the word " Alabama" in place of the 
word " Birmingham." 

Now it must be remembered that there are certain rules or laws 
governing association of ideas just as there are laws governing 
anj'^ other of the mental activities. In all of its forms of function- 
ing— be it in acts of memory, sensation, imagination, fancy or 
anything else — in every form of its activity, the mind acts ac- 
cording to certain laws of its own. 

If you follow the stream of your thoughts for a single hour, 
you readily discover that there are very different kinds of con- 
nection or relationship between the ideas recalled and the 
thoughts by which they are recalled. If you think of a stream, it 
may impel you to think of a row you took there one moonlight 
night, or of the river on which you used to skate. The thought 
of the river makes you think of the rowing experience because 
when rowing you thought of the river. In other words, the 
thought of the river and the thought of boating were in your 
mind at the same time. On the other hand, the little white house 
with green shutters that I see on yonder hill makes me think of 
my boyhood home, not because the two houses — the house I see 
now and the house I remember — were ever presented to my mind 
at the same time, but because they are like each other. Again, if I 
were stranded on a desert isle and should see lying among the 



246 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

wreckagestrewnalongits coasts, asinglepiano key, I would beim- 
pelled to think of a piano, because a part always makes one think 
of the whole to which it belongs. Take still another instance. 
Suppose I am looking at a new piece of machinery— an achieve- 
ment of engineering skill — a gigantic printing-press, for example. 
As I study the parts of the interesting mechanism in their rela- 
tion to each other I begin to think of what it can do— how it will 
print, fold and paste. I stand beside the monstrous Krupp gun 
and I think of all the devastation and bloody work it can per- 
form. This shows that the perception of a cause of any kind 
always leads one to think of the effect it can bring about. 

Thus we might go on and to the four above classes of relations- 
contiguity in time or space, resemblance or similarity, relation of 
whole to part and of cause to effect — add an indefinite number. If 
I see in the crowd of passers-by a face that looks like the face of 
an absent friend, it brings that friend to mind. But just as truly 
objects that are unlike recall each other. This is especially true of 
objects that can be contrasted. Thus cold makes us think of heat, 
bitter makes us think of sweet, and sweet makes us think of bitter; 
darkness makes us think of light, and light makes us think of 
darkness. The various rules of association of ideas intimated 
above — contiguity, similarity and the like — are not sufficient be- 
cause they do not account for all the facts. The list of catalogued 
relations which includes likeness, cause and effect, instrument 
and use, means and end, part and whole, must be indefinitely ex- 
tended in order to explain all cases of association of ideas. Under 
which class of relations would you subsume the following ? Mad 
King Lear makes an endeavor to comfort the blind Duke of 
Gloucester in his misfortunes ; comfort suggests to him a ser- 
mon in the delivery of which, after the manner of the old-time 
Puritan, he holds his hat in his hand ; the felt of the hat makes 
him think of a possible stratagem in war, namely, to shoe the 
horses with felt so as to come upon the enemy noiselessly. You 
see at once that here is a chain of associations that normally 
and naturally arose, but which cannot be explained by mere 
reference to certain classes of relations. Now we must have a 



THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 247 

law more general, capable of wider application, and more far- 
reaching. 

Now I would not for a moment have you think that the "laws 
of association," which are based upon classes of relations, are of 
no value. Quite the contrary is the case. I do think they are of 
much value in helping us to classify the forms or modes under 
which the connection between thoughts or association of ideas 
really takes place. For example, take the relation known as Con- 
tiguity of Place. If when on a railroad journey a terrible acci- 
dent occurs at a certain bridge, e. g., the Ashtabula wreck, I am 
sure ever after to think of the accident when subsequently cross- 
ing that particular bridge. In the same way associations cluster 
round certain localities and make them peculiarly interesting; 
thingsnot at all interesting in themselves may become thoroughly 
interesting on account of their associations. The " Washington 
Elm" at Cambridge is anything but a beautiful tree, yet it is vis- 
ited by thousands every year because of a certain event that 
transpired there over a century ago. So the field of Waterloo is 
visited every year by multitudes who associate with it one of the 
epoch-making events of modern history. We cut a cane from the 
Gettysburg battlefield, pick up a battered bullet on Lookout 
Mountain, cherish a fragment of stone from the streets of Jerusa- 
lem and bring a bottle of water from the river Jordan, because 
these places are associated with events of vivid interest to us. 
Likewise the morbid interest which leads one to carry away and 
cherish a blood-stained splinter from a railroad wreck, or treasure 
a piece of hangman's rope, can only be explained on the same 
ground as the associations instanced above — associations of 
events with things and places— they are associations of Con- 
tiguity of Place. So we might go on and illustrate any of these 
so-called Isiwa of association — contrast, resemblance, contiguity 
in time, etc.; but at most they could only be regarded as princi- 
ples of classification rather than as well-founded explanatory 
laws. At most, as laws, they are only of secondary value. Three, 
six, ten, a hundred "classes of relation" would not be sufficient 
to account for all the phenomena of association. Mere similarity 



248 



PRACTICAL LESSONS LV PSYCHOLOGY. 



or resemblance between objects has no causal power to carry us 
from one to the other. It is quite unintelligible how some writers 
can talk of similarity, contrast, etc., as if these mere resemblances 
or oppositions could be an efficient cause in the reproduction of 
thought processes. Besides, no such relation is ever observed 
until after the association has really taken place. These rela- 
tions are effects of the association rather than causes. 

In seeking to explain the large class of facts grouped under the 
phrase " association of ideas," it must be remembered first of all 
that this association or connection is not between ideas but be- 
tween things. Ideas are not entities which can adhere, cohere or 
agglutinate. The Herbartian school of thinkers would have us 




Figure 48. 

believe that there is some inherent force in the ideas themselves 
by means of which one idea could attract another idea. All men- 
tal activities Herbart accounts for on the basis of the actions 
and reactions of ideas. Any such view is certainly in error. 

The real principle that explains all the phenomena of associa- 
tion is this — the mind tends to act again in the manner it has 
acted before. Like all mental activities the process or association 
has a physical or cerebral basis. It is practically a cerebral law. 
Professor James goes so far as to say that "there is no other 
elementary causal law of association than the law of neural 
habit." We know with complete certainty that there is no such 
thing as an isolated mental experience or brain process. The 
successive brain processes overlap each other. 



THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 249 

Let the horizontal line niu in Fig. 48 represent the line of time, 
and let the curves beginning at a, b and c respectively, represent 
the neural processes correlated with certain thoughts or states of 
mind. Each process of course occupies a certain time during 
which its intensity changes — beginning feebly, it grows in intens- 
ity until it culminates and then it becomes weaker until it fades 
into nothingness. But before the process a has died, the process 
c has already begun, while b is culminating. So it is in all brain 
activity — one process always induces another brain process in 
a contiguous or connected center. This is provided for in the 
very structure of the cerebral cortex Itself. 1 refer to the " asso- 
ciation fibers " of the brain. These fibers run from one cortical 
center to another, connecting the different areas on the surface 
of the brain. These fibers run in all directions and dive down un- 
der the fissures, thereby establishing bonds of connection between 
areas on the cortex that would otherwise be entirely separate or 
isolated from one another. 

Now when two elementary brain processes have been active 
together in previous experiences — have overlapped or acted in 
immediate succession — one of them recurring tends to arouse the 
other. But it is found in actual experience that every brain pro- 
cess is linked with a host of others. The question now arises 
which one of these secondary processes should be evoked when 
the elementary process recurs. How and by what is the course 
of association really brought about? What determines which 
brain process shall be aroused when the elementary process 
occurs again ? 

The course of the association is determined by no less than 
three factors : (1 ) The frequency with which each of the vari- 
ous processes may have acted in connection with the ele- 
mentary process ; (2) the strength of each of such associated 
processes; and (3) the presence or absence of certain possible 
rival processes. In the old-time text-books on Psychology the 
endeavor was made to account for the same thing by referring 
to the vividness of the original impression, to the recency of its 
occurrence, and to the frequency of repetition. This is the same 



250 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

as saying that whatever tends to fix the attention will affect the 
order and manner of association in re-presenting certain orig- 
inal impressions to consciousness. This is well and good, but 
hazy and indefinite. We prefer to explain the trend of associa- 
tion on the basis of the three cerebral or neurological conditions 
enumerated above. Take, for example, some of our seemingly 
erratic associations. I see a certain kind of bench or settee in rav 
recitation room. A moment after I find myself thinking of 
Custer's massacre. By what processes I reached the thought 
of the bloody massacre of Gen. Custer within a half minute after 
I saw the settee in my recitation room, I never shall be able to 
conceive. Certainly the steps were not consciously taken, but they 
were taken nevertheless. The connection is more intimate and 
consequently more readily discovered in the case of the little boy 
who, when his father brought home a puppy, exclaimed, "Oh! 
Good! I aint the baby now!" Or it is even more clear and 
direct in this self-explanatory association which took place in the 
mind of my little five-year old girl just this afternoon. She was 
washing some little toy cups and saucers — her "doll dishes " as 
she called them — and before the operation was completed became 
rather tired of it. Finally she finished and with a sigh of relief 
said, "Well, I'm actually done. Amen.'' I asked her why she 
said "Amen." She replied at once, " I always say amen when I 
finish my prayers and I guess dishwashing is just as hard as 
saying prayers." 

You see we must refer the trend or course of the stream of asso- 
ciated impressions to something more elementary than mere viv- 
idness, repetition or recency of these impressions. It seems that 
the conditions can be none other than the neurological ones 
already set forth. 

The physiological connection of the various cortical centers, 
by means of the fibers of association, is then the physical correlate 
or counterpart of the associated mental states. Objections are 
sometimes raised to this view on the basis that there are not 
enough nerve cells and fibers to render possible as many combi- 
nations of the nervous elements as we have ideas. We think this 



THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 251 

objection disappears when it is remembered that there probably 
are noless than 15,000,000 nerve-cells in every cubic inch of corti- 
cal matter, for the number of combinations possible are practi- 
cally infinite. The arousement of a single impression in this very 
complicated network evokes, therefore, many associated impres- 
sions, some few of which are very clear, definite and strong, 
others less so, while many are vague, indefinite and weak. That 
there are varying degrees of strength of revival of impressions is 
a well-known fact, and one which is provided for on the basis of 
the theory here advanced. 

The impressions that are so related and associated that they 
are recalled by each other, need by no means be within the realm 
of the same sense. In fact, the more vivid and strong associations 
most frequently occur between impressions of different senses, 
rather than between impressions of the same sense. There are as 
many memories possible as there are original sense impressions. 
The speaking of the word "apple" in my ear may evoke no less 
than a dozen memories or revived impressions of color, size and 
shape, the taste impression, the smell or flavor, the smoothness 
and hardness of its surface, the appearance of the word when 
written or printed, the muscular sensations experienced in speak- 
ing the word — all of these may be called out, of course with 
different degrees of vividness and clearness. Such associations 
must of necessity, and do readily admit of the neurological or 
physiological explanation. On no other basis can they be 
explained. 

All learning or acquisition of knowledge illustrates the law of 
association. For example, in learning about the history of his 
own country or the geography of distant countries, the pupil has 
to depend largely upon associations of time and place in order 
to remember certain characteristics. In the same way he turns 
to account his observations gained by actual contact in his daily 
rounds of play. The ball he sees in the window of the novelty 
store is an object of intense interest to him simply because there 
is associated with it a host of vivid impressions of former en- 
joyment. Whoever heard of a boy forgetting the name of a toy 



252 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

or game? Why should he remember such things any better 
than he remembers the name of the capital of a distant state, 
the products of a foreign country, or a rule or formula in 
mathematics? Simply because the associated impressions in 
the primary perceptions are more vivid, clear and definite 
and at the same time more numerous. The point is, then, 
that the teacher should impress each new fact upon the mind of 
the pupil by means of certain, clear, well-defined, associated facts 
and relations. To illustrate what I mean, take this example 
from Lange's "Apperception.'" " If the teacher is to explain the 
distance of the sun from the earth, let him ask : ... 'If any 
one there in thesun fired off acannon straight at you, what would 
you do ? ' ' Get out of the way,' would be the answer. ' No need 
of that,' the teacher might reply. ' You may quietly go to sleep 
in your room, and get up again, you may wait until your con- 
firmation day, you may learn a trade, and grow as old as I am — 
then, only, will the cannon ball be getting near, then, you may 
jump to one side. See, so great is the sun's distance ! ' " 

Perhaps verbal associations or word-names, whether they be 
names of objects, persons or places, are the most potent factors 
in reviving sense impressions. Indeed, the most important as- 
sociations are those of words. We habitually recall our impres- 
sions by aid of verbal signs. The name of an object is, in itself, 
a very bundle of associated sense-impressions. While the name 
is a mere label of an object, by means of it alone are we able to 
revive the impressions that self-same object has made upon our 
sensorium. 

But associations, to be of value, must be well selected; the more 
significant ones must be emphasized in our first perception so 
that they alone will recur with vividness. It is by no means 
the mark of a strong mind to be able to revive every one of the 
impressions originally associated in perception. The strong in- 
dividual mind will select those associates that are of greatest value 
for his purpose and work, and these are the ones that come up in 
his re-presentative consciousness with the greatest clearness and 
intensity. In those weaker minds, marked by mechanical modes 



TEE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 253 

of activity rather than by real individual thinking, discrimination 
among related impressions does not take place to any extent. 
All impressions seem to such an one to be of like importance, 
and the person is a machine grinding out the bundle of associa- 
tions as originally perceived, just as a graphophoneor music-box 
would do if properly adjusted. Those inveterate gossips who will 
omit no detail, however petty, in the tales they recount — those 
good, motherly old souls who desire to prescribe for our aches 
and ills, who at the same time relate how so and so was cured by 
the self-same remedy, giving the exact circumstances under 
which the cure took place, who remember dates by associating 
the event with the time a certain child in the neighborhood cut 
its teeth, and so on — these represent what I have in mind. Not 
long ago I read a letter written by such a person. The event 
related was itself of minor consequence. Yet the name of the 
person with whom the event was associated was given in full, 
his parents' names, hie own exact age, the fact mentioned that 
he was of the same age as his cousin, that he kept a store and 
sold calico at so much a yard, etc. Literature abounds with 
just such characters. Read, for example, the utterances of that 
garrulous Mrs. Quickly in Shakespeare's Henry IV., or of the 
nurse in Romeo and Juliet ; or notice the rambling words of Mrs. 
Tulliver in George Eliot's "Mill on the Floss." Dickens makes 
constant use of this characteristic in his works. The following 
words of Mrs. Nickleby serve as a fair illustration of what I have 
in mind : 

[Speaking of her daughter.] " She always was clever, always, 
from a baby. I recollect when she was only two years and a 
half old, that a gentleman who used to visit very much at our 
house — Mr. Watkins, you know, Kate, my dear, that your poor 
papa went bail for, who afterwards ran away to the United States, 
and sent us a pair of snow-shoes with such an affectionate letter, 
that it made your poor, dear father cry for a week. You remem- 
ber the letter ? In which he said that he was very sorry he couldn't 
repay the fifty pounds just then, because his capital was all out 
at interest, and he was very busy making his fortune, but that 



254 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOOY. 

he didn't forget that you were his god-daughter, and he should 
take it very unkind if we didn't buy you a silver coral and put it 
down to his old account? Dear me, yes, my dear; how stupid 
you are ! and spoke so affectionately of the old port wine that he 
used to drink a bottle and a half of every time he came. You 
must remember, Kate? " 

Again, in answer to an inquiry about her daughter's health, 
she replies: "She is quite well, I'm obliged to you, my lord. 
Quite well. She wasn't well for some days after that day she 
dined here, and I can't help thinking that she caught cold in that 
hackney coach coming home. Hackney coaches, my lord, are 
such nasty things, that it's almost better to walk at any time, 
for although I believe a hackney coachman can be transported 
for life if he has a broken window, still they are so reckless that 
they nearly all have broken windows. I once had a swelled face 
for six weeks, my lord, from riding in a hackney coach. I think 
it was a hackney coach," said Mrs. Nickleby, reflecting, ^'though 
I'm not quite certain whether it wasn't a chariot; at all events, 
I know it was a dark green with a very long number beginning 
with a nought and ending with a nine, no — beginning with a nine 
and ending with a nought, that was it; and of course the stamp 
office people would know at once whether it was a coach or a 
chariot, if an}' inquiries were made there — however that was, 
there it was with a broken window and there was I for six weeks 
with a swelled face— I think that was the very same hackney 
coach that we found out afterwards had the top open all the time, 
and we should never even have known it, if they hadn't charged 
us a shilling an hour extra for having it open, which it seems is 
the law, or was then, and a most shameful law it appears to be. 
I don't understand the subject, but I should say the Corn Laws 
could be nothing to that act of Parliament." 

Such illustrations as these, make it patent to the reader that 
our faculty of association should be selective in the exercise of its 
functions. The developed thinker will carefully discriminate 
among his impressions and the skillful teacher will emphasize in 
his work of instruction certain phases of the subject— in other 



THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 255 

words, certain "associates" that will be of future value to his 
pupil in the wisest, most economical exercise of his mental func- 
tions; for a multiplicity of paths of association may prove a 
hindrance rather than an aid or advantage. 

Before closing the chapter, we must at least refer to the rap- 
idity with which these associations take place in our minds. 
Reading is one of the best exemplifications of the activity of the 
associative faculty. With little practice you will find that you 
can name at least five hundred letters in two minutes from a 
printed page. In so doing we associate certain impressions of 
sound with certain visual impressions produced by the printed 
characters on the page before you. This makes do less than four 
distinct acts of association in every second that have taken place 
within your mind. Professor Valentin tells us that the reading 
of a single page of proof, containing 2,629 letters, took him two 
minutes and 32 seconds, which shows that he understood the 
import of each letter in less than -^ of a second. These simple 
figures serve to indicate with what rapidity sensation calls up its 
associates. Professor Cattell's experiments show that the time- 
rate varies even among themost elementary kinds of association. 
For example, a word was presented, the name of a city, at the 
sight of which the reactor was to announce the name of the coun- 
try in which it was situated; then a month was named, the re- 
actor to tell the season to which that month belonged ; the name 
of an author to call up the language in which he wrote, and also 
the name of a writer to call up one of his works. The average 
time for the different processes was shown to be as follows : 

From city to country 0.340 seconds. 

From month to season 0.399 seconds. 

From author to language 0.523 seconds. 

From author to work 0.596 seconds. 

But this matter will be more fully discussed in our chapter on 
"The Time Relations of Mental Phenomena." 



LESSON XX. 

MEMORY. 

You remember we discussed at considerable length, the sensa- 
tions. They constitute the phenomena that take place in presen- 
tative consciousness. In the last chapter we discussed the laws 
and rules of our mental associations which have to do with the 
revival and recombination of certain original impressions of 
sense. These are then the phenomena of the re-presentativp fac- 
ulty, and the three phases or forms under which this faculty 
manifests itself are memory, imagination and fantasy. You will 
see in a later chapter that there are still higher and more com- 
plicated forms of mental activity known as reasoning, reflection, 
comparison, judgment and the like. The power which manifests 
itself in this highly complex manner, and through such varied 
processes is probably best known under the name of the thought 
or rational faculty. 

In the preceding chapter on "Association," we considered the 
laws or conditions under which the re-presentative power mani- 
fests itself. Having done this we now proceed to apply these ob- 
servations in a more specific manner. As mentioned above the 
three forms, phases, or m.odes of the mind's functioning which 
can be attributed to the re-presentative power are memory, im- 
agination and fantasy. For our present purpose only the first 
two need to be discussed, because of their wide significance and 
their practical value. We shall begin with memory. 

In our discussion of the senses we stated that all our knowl- 
edge of objects is gained through sensation. But if we were capa- 
ble of only "sensing" objects we could gain no /asfzng- knowledge 
about anything. True knowledge, even of the simplest objects, 
is, as you well know,notamomentarytransientaffair; itmust be 
an abiding ])osses8ion perduring in some form to be used at any 
(256) 



MEMORY. 257 

time, whether the objects are present or not. The persistency of 
the various impressions which objects make upon our minds 
through the several avenues of sense is due to that power of mind 
usually called retentiveness. This leads us to define memory as 
the knowledge of a former mental state after it has already 
dropped out of consciousness. 

The power of memory manifests itself under three distinct 
steps or phases: (1) retention; (2) reproduction, and (3) recog- 
nition. The second and third can be grouped together under one 
name — that of " recall." Since these two phases ai'e so intimate 
in their relations, and so interwoven in their activities, it is no 
doubt better to signify both by the comprehensive name of recall. 
We have then the two factors, retention and recall, in every a(;t 
of memory. Memory presupposes a certain exercise on the part 
of the senses. Memory images never arise in consciousness until 
after a more or less developed sense knowledge is acquired. For 
the first element which re-presentative knowledge involves is the 
revival in the mind of an image or copy of the original event. 
But more than the mere revival or recurrence of sense impres- 
sions must take place in order to have an act of real memory. 
In truth, in the mere fact of recurrence no memory is necessarily 
involved. In a full and complete act of memory we must have, 
(1) reproduction of images; (2) recognition of these images as 
copies of original perceptions, and (8) the assignment of such 
recognized images to a place in my own private history — to a 
place in my own past. 

Memory being a form of the re-presentative power, both reten- 
tion and recall are to be explained by the same laws of associa- 
tion that in the previous chapter were said to explain all forms 
of activity under which the re-presentative power manifests itself. 
The materials are furnished to memory according to the laws 
of association. The act of memory is chiefly an act of recogni- 
tion. That is, in memory the individual recognizes tlie present 
image before his mind as the re-presented image of an experience 
in his own past. Association recalls, memory recognizes. 

Your own experience will testify to the fact that recall as well 

L. P.-17 



258 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

as retention can be explained bj* association in the broadest 
sense. Suppose you hear a familiar name, but cannot, at the 
moment, recall the face of the person who bears the name. One 
at a time you settle the points. You say he has eyes of such a 
color, nose of a certain shape, and so on until gradually his face 
appears before you, first as a cloudlike form, then becoming more 
clear and definite until you have a clear-cut and distinct mental 
picture of the person. 

Mill puts the matter clearly when he says: " There is a state 
of mind familiar to all men in which we are said to remember. In 
this state it is certain we have not in the mind, the idea which 
we are trying to have in it. How is it then, that we proceed, in 
the course of our endeavor, to procure its introduction into the 
mind ? If we have not the idea itself, we have certain ideas con- 
nected with it. We run over those ideas, one after another, in 
the hope that some one of them will suggest the idea we are in 
quest of; and if any one of them does, it is always one so con- 
nected with it as to call it up in the way of association. To illus- 
trate : I meet an old acquaintance whose name I do not recall 
and yet wish to remember. I run over a number of names hop- 
ing that some of them may be associated with the idea of the in- 
dividual. I think of all the circumstances amid which I have seen 
him occupied and if I chance upon any idea with which the name 
is associated, I then, immediately, have the recollection; if not, 
my pursuit of it is in vain." 

Why do you sometimes tie a knot in your handkerchief or a 
pink string around your little finger, or changethe ring to an un- 
accustomed finger? You answer — " To remember by." In other 
words, you are seeking a clear, definite and strong association 
by means of which you may recall a certain object. 

Now, memory is not a " general " faculty — there is no memory 
in general any more than there is motion in general, or color in 
general. Just as every color is specific and definite, and every mo- 
tion is motion at a given rate and in a given direction, so mem- 
ory is non-generic. We have just as many memories as we have 
kinds of sensation-experiences. Every organ — every nerve-cell 



MEMORY, 259 

has its own memory. There is a " memory of the eye," a " mem- 
ory of the ear," a "memory of the skin" (for touch, temperature, 
etc.), a " memory of the muscles," and so on indefinitely. 

It is only in poetic figure that one can speak of objects remem- 
bered as preserved in the mind, in ''memory's storehouse," in 
compartments, or pigeon-holes. Cicero, Plato, Schillerand others, 
have compared the mind, in preserving memory images, to a 
tablet, on which characters are impressed or engraved. Even the 
keen Locke indulges in such inexact language as the following: 
"The pictures drawn in our minds are laid in fading colors, and if 
not sometimes refreshed, vanish and disappear. . . . In some, 
it [the mind] retains characters drawn on it like marble; in 
others like freestone; and in others, little better than the sand. 
. . . We oftentimes find disease strip the mind of all its ideas, 
and the flames of a fever in a few days calcine all those images to 
dust and confusion, which seemed to be as lasting as if graved in 
marble." In another place, he says: "The ideas are very often 
aroused and tumbled out of their dark cells into open daylight by 
some turbulent and tempestuous passions." One of the German 
writers pursues the same metaphoric strain when he says: "Our 
present moments are as clay, our past, as chiseled marble. Then 
carefully mould the present, which so surely becomes the past, 
that memory's marble halls may contain many figures of noble 
design." All this is said to be very good poetry, but it is exceed 
ingly poor P8ycholog3\ 

There is, then, really no one center in the brain devoted exclu- 
sively to memory. We have no memory center on the cerebral 
cortex, as we have a speech center or a visual center. -Each cen- 
ter embraces the potentialities of memory that are best adapted 
to the line of activity to which the center is itself devoted. Thus 
the seat of " memory of the eye " is in the visual center, the seat 
of " memory of the ear " is in the auditory center, and so on. 

But memory is not equally efficient, distinct and keen in all 
the realms of sense. To the normal, seeing person, visual mem- 
ory is the most important and significant. Of course the capacity 
for distinct memory images of any of the other senses is differ- 



260 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

ently developed in different individuals. Charcot reports a patient 
who, before his illness, possessed an extraordinary visual mem- 
ory. This he lost during his sickness and on recovery to health, 
a lively memory for sound took its place. Many people have no 
memory whatever for smells and tastes. When the power of 
writing is lost (agraphia) or in motor aphasia, the disturbance 
is due generally to loss of certain motor memories. For exam- 
ple, in the first instance, although the hand is in a normal, health- 
ful condition, capable of executing an indefinite number of com- 
plicated movements, the power of "recalling" the movements 
which produce the letters, is lacking. Galton says, sharp sight 
and clear visual memory do not always go together. He has 
published an interesting report in his "Inquiries into Human 
Faculty," which report is based chiefly upon certain statistical 
inquiries. Among other things, he addressed a letter to hundreds 
of persons, asking them to describe the mental picture they pos- 
sessed of their breakfast table on a given morning. The varia- 
tions were many and wide. 

Memory power is manifested very early in life. A child less 
than three months old will remember the face of parent or nurse, 
even for weeks. M. Perez relates the instance of a child of three 
months, who had been accustomed to see a bird in a cage, when 
it happened to see the cage without the bird, showed very marked 
signs of bitter disappointment. After a large number of inquiries 
I have discovered that the average college student remembers as 
far back as the third year of his age — generally some unusual 
event that would tend to make a vivid impression on a child's 
mind — e. g., the death of a friend or relative, a railroad journey, 
or a big conflagration. 

My own earliest remembered experience was that of an unsuc- 
cessful attempt, when but two and a half years of age, to drink 
lemonade through a straw, at the restaurant in the Capitol at 
Washington. 

What is meant by a good memory? In passing our judgment 
upon one's memory power, we must test by no less than two 
standards, — first, the readiness with which such images are re- 



MEMORY. 261 

called, and the distinctness of such images; second, the length 
of time the mind has retained the impression. In few individuals 
are these two elements equally prominent. Some have ready 
memory without tenacity. Others have tenacious memories with- 
out spontaneity. The memory of the young is usually more quick 
and ready, while that of the adult is more tenacious. Not only 
natural endowment, but also age, practice and education cause va- 
riations in memory power. We are told a great many stories of 
the prodigious memory power of the ancients. For example, it 
is related that Themistocles knew every citizen of Athens, and 
that Cyrus could recognize every soldier of his army. Hortensius 
could sit all day at an auction, and at evening could give an ac- 
count, from memory, of everything sold, the purchasers, and the 
price. It is but natural that the ancients should possess better 
memories than we, for there was far less to divert their attention 
and there were fewer facts to remember. Furthermore, they never 
relied as we do upon writing memoranda, and the like, but re- 
tained what they desired to preserve by a pure mental act. Their 
method of verbal teaching also conduced to strengthen the mem- 
ory. Most of us to-day, as we look back upon our university 
course, remember with greater clearness those facts supplied by 
oral lecture rather than those gained from book recitations. 

The quickness with which the memory of some individuals acts 
is moat remarkable. For example, one person hears a lot of un- 
connected names recited, and can repeat them all in the precise 
order in which they were uttered, while another can recall but few 
or none. One pupil can learn a page or his entire lesson simply 
by reading or hearing it read once; while another can, with great 
difficulty, repeat only a single line correctly. 

As a remarkable example of a quick memory I cite the follow- 
ing instance, which came under my own observation. On an Au- 
gust afternoon in Berlin, I was walking with a friend from America 
who had never before been in the city. We strolled down Fried- 
ericb Strasse toward Unter den LiccfeD, conversing all the while 
and passing a multitude of various little shops. After going six 
blocks I interrupted him by saying that I must go back to Herr 



262 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

Klausen's shop for some stationery which I had forgotten. My 
friend assured me that we had passed no such shop — that it 
must be further on. I was sure we had passed it, and told him 
so. At this, he named in order each shop which we had passed 
and in their correct order, just as we had passed them, as was 
proven by retracing our steps. He had never been on this par- 
ticular street before, and yet without any serious endeavor, and 
absorbed in conversation, had a clear mental image of the more 
than eighty shops we had passed. A remarkable example of 
spontaneous memory is related of Adele aus der Ohe, the already 
famous pianist and pupil of Liszt. When less than three years of 
age she happened to be playing with her dolls in the same room 
in which her sister was taking her music lesson. This sister made 
some mistake for which she was criticised severely, and at thesame 
time little Adele ran to the piano stool at the side of her sister 
and began to clamor to get upon the stool herself, calling out 
' ' Ich ! Ich ! ' ' To satisf 3^ her whim she was lifted to the piano and 
played correctly from ear memory, a large portion of the com- 
position which the music master had himself played, and which 
formed the basis of the sister's music lesson. 

Such a ready and spontaneous memory as here exemplified, is 
not really so indicative of large and profound powers of mind as it 
is significant as an intellectual convenience. It is the intentional 
memory that is characteristic of mental development rather than 
the spontaneous memory. By intentional or voluntary memory 
we mean those cases of recall in which the objects remembered are 
voluntarily sought for by a conscious mental effort. For exam- 
ple, as in the illustration already given, I recall the appearance 
of a house, the points of a landscape, the face of my friend, 
which at first comes up before the mind as a vague, cloud-like 
form, with scarcely a distinguishing point or characteristic, and 
seemingly without a single loose thread by means of which one 
might get hold of the image in more distinct outline and fill it 
with more definite content. Intentional or voluntary memory 
is possible whenever the mind can begin with such a vague ob- 
ject and bring it forth into its pristine state. In such an opera- 



MEMORY. 268 

tion we begin with an object which we are sure in our original 
act of knowledge had some association with that which we seek, 
and we dwell upon such until the fact we seek occurs to the mind, 
when it is recognized and greeted with a warm welcome. 

There is an intimate connection between the bodily condition 
and the phenomena of memory. The extent, grasp, and range 
of the memory span, as well as the intensity and persistence of the 
memory images, is dependent upon the bodily condition. By this 
we mean both the bodily condition at the time the original per- 
cept is acquired, and the bodily condition at the time the object 
is sought for in memory. Objects which are originally prehended 
and perceived when in a certain condition of health, when the 
" head is as clear as a bell," we can afterwards recall quite read- 
ily with little or no conscious effort. On the other hand, if we 
are wearied by labor, fatigued by tedious travel, exhausted by 
watching, or suffering with pain, the facts that transpire become 
almost a blank when we seek to recover them. This is but nat- 
ural, and right in line with the deliverances of modern physiologi- 
cal Psychology. Since memory has its physiological expression 
in the power of the organism to preserve traces of impressions 
received and in connection with their associates, it is self-evident 
that the fresher and more energetic the vital and neural processes, 
the better may things be learned, i. e., the original sense per- 
ceptions will leave behind certain deeper and more permanent 
traces. In this we have a reason for the fact that childhood 
and youth are the proper time for acquisition, and also a basis 
for the other fact, that what is then learned is more persistent 
and better preserved than the experiences of the latter years 
of our life. In old age we constantly find that the events of 
childhood are therefore remembered better, while the events of 
later years, though of quite recent occurrence, readily fall into 
oblivion. 

In old age, the brain processes seem to lack the energy neces- 
sary in order to preserve fresh impressions. Thus it is that, as 
a class (thanks to the Fates there are some brilliant exceptions 1), 
old persons revel in old facts, the facts of their early days, and 



264 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

have little sympathy for the struggling but growing mind of the 
youth, chafing so impetuously at his side. Old men (as a rule) love 
to read old books, and young men prefer to read new books. It 
would be better for the world and for all concerned, if attimes this 
condition could be reversed. As Professor James so pertinently 
puts it: " Our education is a ceaseless compromise between the 
conservative and progressive factors." We are constantly plac- 
ing newly acquired facts under old heads of classification, just as 
we interpret and explain the new fact in light of what is already 
known. Thus, the child, on perceiving the wilted flowers in the 
vase, said: "Oh, mamma, those flowers are all melted!'^ The 
little Florida child, who called the first snowballs he ever saw, 
"oranges," acted according to the same inevitable law. Like- 
wise as to the child who calls the zebra a "striped horse," or the 
savage who calls the horse a gigantic dog. 

As we grow older we become more and more enslaved to these 
old stock conceptions, less capable of assimilating new facts in 
new ways. So it is that we have come to speak of the "dead 
line " of fifty, or fifty -five, or sixty years, meaning that as a rule, 
men do not acquire much new material beyond that age, but are 
simply engaged in "threshing over the old straw." 

It is a general psycho-physical law that the later acquisitions 
of the old person are subject to more speedy dissolution than 
those gained earlier in life. Added to this is the fact, proven by 
recent investigations, that growth focuses now upon one set of 
organs and functions, and now upon another, which must be taken 
in connection with the more significant fact that the eye, hand 
and arm, voice, chest and other centers and functions, have cer- 
tain "nascent" periods, during which they grow far more than 
for a long time before or after. There is, then, a certain stage in 
the development of the pupil when he can learn certain facts and 
pursue certain studies with greater facility than at any other pe- 
riod of his existence. By experimental investigations we seek to 
find out what nascent periods clearly manifest themselves at any 
given stage of development, and the length of time they persist. 
Facts acquired during these periods of maximum energy are not 



MEMORY. 265 

only acquired with greater ease but are better remembered than 
if acquired at any other time. 

Again, things we have learned and experienced in an unusually 
energetic and cheerful frame of mind are more easily retained 
than things we have sought to acquire when petulant, enervated 
and out of sorts generally. This is what Spencer and other edu- 
cational reformers have in mind when they tell us that the true 
pedagogical method will make the work of education pleasant 
and delightful to the child. It is a well-known fact that food is 
better assimilated, and hence does more good, when partaken at 
a meal where good cheer prevails than when one is grieved, 
angry, worried or anxious. So it is with our intellectual dietary. 
If the mental menu be well arranged so as to be appetizing and 
conducive to cheerfulness, much greater good — and a better 
good — will be accomplished than when one's intellectual tasks 
become one ceaseless, laborious grind. Indeed, the most signifi- 
cant of all the changes taking place in our modern school system 
is the endeavor to make the acquirement of knowledge pleasur- 
able rather than painful. "Asceticism is disappearing out of 
education as out of life." With respect to the mental faculties 
and functions, it is a well-established general law that under nor- 
mal conditions healthful action is pleasurable, while the forms of 
activity which give pain are not healthful. Children assiduously 
pursue those pleasures which the healthful exercise of the faculties 
furnishes. Experience is constantly revealing to the teacher with 
ever increasing clearness that there is always a pedagogical 
method to be found productive of intense interest and delight, 
and it has continually' been demonstrated by other tests that any 
such method is the right method. It is a law of mental economy 
that studies are to be pursued in a manner to evoke a pleasur- 
able interest rather than painful experiences, for only in this way 
can the best results be attained. 

Just as a fresh, healthy and well-nourished brain is essential in 
the first acquisition of material for memory, so is it also a neces- 
sary condition of the act of recall and re-presentation itself; 
when this material is again sought for, there must be suflScient 



266 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGT. 

energy and vigor in the organism, especially in the nervous cen- 
ters more intimately concerned in acts of association. It is 
related of Sir Henry Holland, an English physician, while travel- 
ing in Germany and visiting the mines in the Hartz mountains, 
that be suddenly forgot his German in consequence of over-fa- 
tigue, and it returned to him only after he was rested and re- 
freshed. Here are his own words : " I descended on the same day 
two very deep mines in the Hartz Mountains, remaining some 
hours underground in each. While in the second mine, and 
exhausted both from fatigue and inanition, I felt the utter im- 
possibility of talking longer with the German inspector who ac- 
companied me. Every German word and phrase deserted my 
recollection, and it was not until I had taken food and wine, and 
been some time at rest that I regained them again." 

Dr. Beattie relates that one of his friends, having received a 
blow on the head, lost all his knowledge of Greek, although his 
memory was unimpaired. The same thing is noticed with regard 
to music. A child, having received a severe blow on the head, re- 
mained for three days unconscious. On coming to himself, he 
was found to have forgotten all that he had learned of music. 
Nothing else was lost. In seasons of extreme weakness, we can- 
not recover even the most familiar names, facts and dates, and 
our most common knowledge fails to come at our bidding. In a 
happy frame of mind, especially in an excited condition, memo- 
ries arise which cannot possibly be evoked under ordinary cir- 
cumstances. The uses of certain drugs, such as opium, hasheesh 
and Indian hemp, in most persons, heighten the memory power. 
Good, healthy circulation of the blood is an essential to a good 
memory. 

You might be tempted tourge thefaet of common observation, 
which seems to contradict what we have said with reference to 
freshness and bodily vigor, as a prerequisite of a good memory — 
I refer to the fact that so little is remembered of the experiences 
that transpire in the earliest years of childhood, when the brain 
is freshest and most impressible. As already stated, memory sel- 
dom goes back beyond the third year of our childhood. This is 



MEMORY. 267 

due largely to the fact that the paths of association in the 
"brand-new" brain of the infant, are not clearly defined, well- 
fixed or deep-seated, and is also due to the fact that what a child 
learns during the first year or two of his infancy is very different 
from the acquisitions of later years. There is a want of continu- 
ity and harmonious progression between the experiences of the 
earliest and those of the more mature years, and, as a rule, a want 
of that interest which is necessary to frequent recall, and persist- 
ing retention, of the older events fresh in memory. 

It is not out of place for us here to notice that certain times 
of the day and certain seasons of the year are most favorable 
and especially conducive to the successful acquisition of facts for 
subsequent remembrance. As a rule, the later evening hours, or 
"wee sma' hours" permit the attention to be most intently fixed 
upon the object of thought; but it is sometimes found that the 
acquisitions of the midnight toiler, which seemed to be so clear 
and distinct, and bid fair to be so persistent, have well-nigh van- 
ished in the morning. Much depends upon the individual pecul- 
iarities of the student. For myself I find that the hours from ten 
to two o'clock at night are the hours in which I do the best work. 
By this I mean that during these four hours of the twenty-four 
greater rapidity of thought, clearer associations and more in- 
tiense concentration are possible than at any other time of the 
day. I would not recommend such unseasonable hours to any 
student, any more than I myself would listen to a recommenda- 
tion from some one else to the effect that five o'clock in the morn- 
ing is the time at which to take up the heavier mental tasks. 
This is certain, that the person who sleeps less than the rule, 
e. g., the person who sleeps but five hours, ought by all means 
eat more and oftener than the average person, if he wish to 
sustain careful, painstaking, mental effort. Loss of sleep should 
always be offset by porterhouse steak, or something equally 
nutritious. 

Both classes of facts — those which indicate the dependence on 
bodily conditions of both the power to effectively acquire the 
materials for memory, and the power to recall them with ease— 



268 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

can be accounted for on the basis of the views we have already 
expressed with reference to the relation of reciprocity that ob- 
tains between body and mind. The varying condition of the 
body through the several sensations of which it is primarily the 
occasion, enters into all the experiences of consciousness, and is 
really the backbone of them all. It is the great screen on which 
all the mental activities are projected, and is the never-failing 
basis and accompaniment of them all. If the sensations are made 
abnormal, disturbed or unpleasant, owing to certain peculiar con- 
ditions of the body, the mind is so absorbed or distracted by the 
obtrusive and unusual elements of the sensations that it has little 
attention for other objects, and little or no energy to concentrate 
upon them so as to make them well remembered. 

It is pertinent here to refer to what is ordinarily called physio- 
logical memory. It is a well-known fact that old habits are diffi- 
cult to overcome, and that fatigue or carelessness will lead ub 
unconsciously to forsake a new for an established method of 
action. But it is onl3' by means of experiment that we can tell 
whether the old habit interferes with the forming of a new path. 
To decide this problem was the object of a series of experiments 
undertaken by Mr. Bergstrom at Clark University only a few 
months ago. Unprinted cards were made into packs of eighty, 
each pack containing ten kinds of cards, and each kind having 
the same abstract word printed at the top, such as " Vitalism," 
"Homophone" and "Identity." 

There were, then, ten groups, of eight cards each, in each pack 
of eighty. The experiment consisted in sorting two packs in 
quick succession, placing cards containing the same word in the 
same pile, the arrangement of the words to be different for the 
second pack. The length of time required for sorting the second 
pack was longer in nearly every case, differing with different in- 
dividuals from three to seventeen seconds. The arm, from mere 
habit or physiological memory, would seek to place a given card 
(e. g., one bearing the word "Identity ") in the same relative posi- 
tion with reference to the other cards, as the cards bearing the 
same name were placed in sorting the first pack. The arm would 



MEMORY. 269 

do this of itself before the mind, as it were, got a chance to direct 
it to the new position occupied by cards of that kind when sorting 
the second pack. The results gained by Mr. Bergstrom are quite 
in harmony with those of previous investigators. He found that 
memory is closely related to habit and that habits are chiefly 
physiological in their basis. His results also show that men are 
influenced with respect to memory as well as other activities, by 
the state of the weather, by food, the frequency and amount of 
rest, and by whatever would tend to modify the regularities of 
mental life, as grief, anger, anxiety and melancholia. 

Many have raised the question as to whether absolute forget- 
fulness is possible — that is, can thesoul lose beyond recovery any- 
thing which it has once known ? In answer to this question, it may 
be said that knowledge which has remained out of sight for a 
long period has often been suddenly recovered. Numerous exam- 
ples have occurred and not a few are recorded in history. The 
classical tale which was originally published by Coleridge, is a 
case in point. It rehates to a servant girl in Germany, who was 
very ill of a nervous fever, accompanied by violent delirium. In 
her excited ravings, she repeated long passages from classical 
and rabbinical writers, which excited the wonder, terror and su- 
perstitious dread of all who heard her, most of these persons 
thinking the girl to be inspired by some good or evil spirit. Some 
of the passages, when written down, were found to correspond 
with literal extracts from learned books. On examining into the 
history of her life, it was found that several years before, when 
very young, she had lived in the family of an old and learned pas- 
tor in the country, who had been in the habit of reading aloud 
favorite passages from the very writers in whose works these ex- 
tracts were discovered. These sounds, at that early age so unin- 
telligible and meaningless to her, were nevertheless so deeply 
impressed upon her mind that under the excitement and delirium 
of the troublous fever, they were reproduced in memory and in- 
voluntarily uttered. Numerous cases are recorded by physicians 
that illustrate this same interesting fact. Dr. Rush tells us of an 
Italian, he once attended, who died in New York of yellow fever. 



270 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

and who, in the first stages of his illness, spoke English; at a 
later period, spoke only French ; and just before his death, spoke 
only the language of his early boyhood, Italian. Dr. Miihlenberg, 
formerly a renowned Lutheran clergyman in Philadelphia, has 
made the interesting observation that old German immigrants, 
whom he visited during their last illness, frequently prayed in the 
native tongue of their fatherland, though some of them had not 
spoken it for fifty or sixty years. These instances conspire with 
others to illustrate the fact that the bodily condition and the 
phenomena of memory are intimately connected and vitally 
associated. 

The memory is readily affected by any physiological disturb- 
ances in the organism — indeed, the memory is probably the fac- 
ulty first to react to any disorder in the organism. How far a fail- 
ure to remember can be regarded as an abnormal affair is really 
a matter of degree, and must be decided on the basis of the cir- 
cumstances in each case. A person who can repeat the names of 
the rulers of England in the order, and with the dates of their 
accession to the throne, is said to have an unusually good mem- 
ory, while the person who cannot remember the name of his street 
or the number of the house in which he has lived for years may 
certainly be said to have a poor memory. But by a good memory 
should be meant not only the persistence of certain conscious 
images, but also the ability to recall these images into conscious- 
ness when occasion demands. 

In the approach of general paralysis memory always fails, es- 
pecially for recent events, and the acquirement and retention of 
new ideas becomes progressively less. After a time there is 
marked absent-mindedness and a forgetfulness of the most com- 
monplace duties ; even meals are forgotten. Such a person, for- 
getful of what he was about to say, making mistakes in counting 
or changing money, becomes easily confused and is totally unfit 
for business. 

The term amnesia is used to designate the pathological condi- 
tion in which there is a loss of memory. We have, according to 
the accepted classification of Ribot, (1) Temporary Amnesia; 



MEMORY. 271 

(2) Periodical Amnesia; (3) Progressive Amnesia, and (4) Con- 
genital Amnesia. 

Temporary amnesia usually makes its appearance suddenly 
and ends just as suddenly as it came. The attack may extend 
from a few minutes to long periods of time. The briefest but 
clearest and most common forms are met with in epilepsy. In 
the epileptic and similar attacks, there is no recollection (or at 
most only the slightest trace) of what has transpired. 

To illustrate : "A patient while consulting with his physician 
is seized with epileptic vertigo. He soon recovers, but has for- 
gotten having paid his fee a moment before the attack. An edu- 
cated man, thirty-one years of age, found himself at his desk, 
feeling rather confused, but not otherwise ill. He remembered 
having ordered his dinner, but not of eating or paying for it. 
He returned to the dining-room, learned that he had both eaten 
and paid, showing no signs of being ill, and had set out for his 
office. Unconsciousness lasted about three quarters of an hour.'' 
Another epileptic, seized with a sudden paroxj^sm, fell in a shop, 
got up, and eluding the shopman and his friends ran away, leav- 
ing his hat and order book behind. He was discovered a quarter 
of a mile away, asking for his hat at all the shops, but not hav- 
ing recovered his senses, nor did he become conscious until he 
got to the railway ten minutes after. Sometimes the loss of pre- 
viously known facts is so complete that re-education becomes 
necessary. "A clergyman of rare talent and energy, of sound 
education, was thrown from his carriage and received a violent 
concussion of the brain. For several days he remained utterly 
unconscious, and when restored, his intellect was observed to 
be in a state similar to that of a naturally intelligent child. Al- 
though in middle life he commenced his English and classical 
studies under tutors and was progressing satisfactorily, when, 
after several months' successful study, his memory gradually re- 
turned, and his mind resumed all its wonted vigor and its former 
wealth and polish of culture." 

"A gentleman about thirty years of age, of wide learning and 
many acquirements, at the termination of a severe illness was 



272 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

found to have lost recollection of everything, even the names of 
the most common objects. His health being restored, he began 
to re-acquire knowledge like a child. After learning the names of 
objects, he was taught to read, and after this, began to learn 
Latin. He made considerable progress, when, one day in reading 
his lesson with his brother, who was his teacher, he suddenly 
stopped and put his hand to his head. Being asked why he did 
so, he replied : ' I feel a peculiar sensation in my head, and now 
it appears to me I knew all this before.' From that time he 
rapidly recovered his faculties." 

In many cases of memory disorder, the cause of the disorder 
is retro-active; that is, the period of forgetfulness extends back 
of the time when the real cause of the amnesic disturbance comes 
into existence. This can be made more clear by reference to a 
single illustration: A friend of mine for three years played the 
position of " center rush " on the foot-ball team of an eastern in- 
stitution. He was for one year the captain of the team, and, of 
course, was responsible for all the plays made — a responsibility 
which every true college man glories in, and of which he desires 
to acquit himself in the best possible manner. During one hotly 
contested game, he was badly injured in the last half, becoming 
unconscious for a few minutes, and then delirious. Now, though 
he was injured in the last half of the game, in the very closing 
minutes, and though he had directed every play previous to the 
injury, he could not remember a single play of the entire game. 
The results of the injury, so far as memory was concerned, ex- 
tended back to a period preceding the time at which the injury 
itself actually occurred. In other words, the cause of the mem- 
ory disturbance was retro-active in its effect upon the memory 
images that were in the mind at the time of the mishap. 

Not all of the forms of memory disorder tend toward the de- 
struction of the memory faculty itself. Those instanced above 
have been only such as show diminution or effacement of the 
memory power. But there are cases just as morbid and patho- 
logical, that are entirely opposite in character — cases in which 
memory functions act with increased intensity, acuteness, and 



MEMORY. 278 

persistency. This state of exaltation of memory is called hy- 
pernmesia to distinguish the phenomena from those of amnesia. 
Exaltations of memory may sometimes be general, but they are 
more frequently partial. 

There are several accounts of drowning persons saved from 
imminent death which go to show that at the moment of as- 
phyxia they seem to see their entire lives unrolled, "as a scroll," 
before them, even to the minutest detail. One such testifies "that 
every instant of his former life seemed to glance across his recol- 
lection in a retrograde succession, not in mere outline, but the 
picture being filled with every minute and collateral feature form- 
ing a kind of panoramic picture of his entire existence, each act 
of it accompanied by a sense of right and wrong." Ribot relates 
an analogous case of " a man of remarkably clear head who was 
crossing a railway in the country, when an express train at full 
speed appeared closely approaching him. He had just time to 
throw himself down in the center of the road between the two 
lines of rails, and as the vast train passed over him, the sense of 
impending danger to his very existence brought vividly into his 
recollection every incident of his former life." Even when inter- 
preted most liberally, such examples show a marked intensity on 
the part of the memory that is much above the ordinary. 

Such exaltation of the memory as has already been stated, 
may also be induced by the use of drugs and some of the narcot- 
ics and intoxicants. A classical example of this is that of De 
Quincey in his "Confessions of an English Opium Eater," in 
which he says: 

" Sometimes I seemed to have lived seventy or a hundred years 
in one night. . . . The minutest incidents of childhood, or for- 
gotten scenes of later years were often revived. I could not be 
said to recollect them, for if I had been told them when waking, I 
should not have been able to acknowledge them as parts of my 
past experience. But placed as they were before me, in dreams 
like intuitions, and clothed in all their evanescent circumstances 
and accompanying feelings, I recognized them instantaneously." 

Abercrombie, in his " Essay on Intellectual Power," tells us of 

L. P.-18 



274 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

a remarkable case of partial excitation which cannot be over- 
looked. It is of a lady who, in the last stage of a prolonged ill- 
ness, was carried from London to a lodging in the country. At 
her request, her infant daughter was taken to visit her, and after 
a brief stay of but a few hours, carried back to the city. The lady 
died a few days after and the daughter grew up, without any recol- 
lection of her mother, until she was of mature age. It happened 
one day that she wandered into the room in which her mother 
had died without knowing it to have been so ; strange to say, she 
started on entering it and when a friend, surprised at her agita- 
tion, asked the cause of it, she was met with the reply, "I have a 
distinct impression of having been in this room before, and that 
a lady who lay in that corner and seemed very ill, leaned over me 
and wept." 

We add one more case by way of illustration, taken from Dr. 
Carpenter's rich fund of interesting examples. "A clergyman, en- 
dowed with a decidedly artistic temperament (a fact worth not- 
ing in this particular instance) , went with a party of friends to 
a castle in Sussex, which he did not remember to have previously 
visited. As he approached the gateway, he became conscious of 
a very vivid impression of having seen it before ; and he seemed 
to himself to see not only the gateway itself, but donkeys be- 
neath the arch, and people on the top of it. His conviction that 
he must have visited the castle on some former occasion made 
him inquire from his mother if she could throw any light on the 
matter. She at once informed him that, being in that part of 
the country when he was about eighteen months old, she had 
gone over with a large party, and taken him in the pannier of a 
donkey; that the elders of the party, having brought lunch with 
them, had eaten it on the roof of the gateway where they would 
have been seen from below, while he had been left on the ground 
with the attendants and donkeys." 

What has already been said goes to show the intimate relation 
between the phenomena of memory and the brain as the physical 
basis. Memory, just like association, is absolutely conditioned 
upon the brain-paths, and the excellence of memory depends upon 



MEMORY. 275 

the number, directness and persistency of tlie.se paths through the 
brain. The number oi such brain-paths is directly dependent upon 
the variety, complexity and range of his '-perception" experi- 
ences. The j^ersistence of the paths is dependent upon the quality 
of the brain tissue, its plasticity, texture, development with re- 
spect to fibers of association. The quantity and quality of the 
blood supply, the age of the individual and a host of other fac- 
tors contribute to the tenacity with which the brain retains the 
sense impressions and their " associates." We have already re- 
ferred to the enfeeblement of memory in old age and by means 
of fatigue, drugs, narcotics and the like. You have seen individ- 
uals weakened by age in whom the brain-paths are not at all 
permanent — persons who will ask the same question over and 
over again, not remembering that they have asked it before or 
received an answer. 

The number of associated precepts must be increased if mem- 
ory is to be strengthened and rendered more effective. As already 
stated, in order to have a good memoi-y one must form many 
and diverse associations with every object he perceives, each of 
which he may use as a clue in his later search for the object in 
thought. Individuals have better memories with reference to 
facts that lie within their own line of occupation and observa- 
tion. Men tend to specification in memory. What one is con- 
tinually thinking of, that he remembers best of all. The broker 
on 'change will remember the stock quotations; the railroad con- 
ductor will remember the names of stations, the exact distance 
between them and the time his train is due at each of them; the 
dry-goods merchant remembers prices; the policeman, the names 
of the streets on his beat; the hotel clerk will be able to call by 
name nearly all the patrons of the house; the college athlete the 
records of every high jump, 100-yard dash or pole vault made in 
the course of a year, simply because he makes a specialty of such 
facts and thinks over them continually, while he may not remem- 
ber his lessons for a single hour, just because he does not make 
a specialty of his lessons or the class of facts with which they 
deal. 



LESSON XXI. 

IMAOINATION. 

We have already spoken of memory as one of the forms under 
which the re-presentative power of the mind manifests itself. An- 
other phase of manifestation assumed by this same re-presenta- 
tive power is met with in the activities of the imagination. 

In a general way, by the imagination we mean that power of 
the mind by means of which ideas of things not present are 
formed. Materials already present to the mind, whether retained, 
or recalled by memory, or actually present to sense-observation 
are recombined into new wholes. The raw materials of sense and 
memory are really wrought into new fabric by the power of 
imagination. The imagination never creates new material but 
only new forms, under which the material already possessed may 
appear. Thus you may imagine a tree giowing from the back 
of an elephant, but the image thus created is made from mate- 
rials already perceived by the senses. In its essential features the 
elephant is like elephants you have already seen, and the tree, 
in its main charactristics, is like trees already met with in your 
past experience. 

This imaging power manifests itself very early in the life of 
each individual. The child cries for a lost but treasured toy — 
his rattle-box or gaily-colored ball. You substitute another toy, 
hoping to appease him, but he dashes it angrily to the floor be- 
cause it does not correspond to the image he has in his mind— a. 
picture of the toy as it should appear. A boy has his mamma 
write a letter to "Santa Claus," telling his wants and expecta- 
tions for the Christmastide. Perhaps it is a box of tools. The 
boy has a picture in his mind of just how that box of tools 
should look, the saw it is to contain is clearly before his mind's 
eye and he can almost tell the number of its teeth. The hatchet 
(276) 



IMAGINATION. 277 

must be painted red, and so on. This boy has imaged by his own 
mental effort, the things he has not actually seen as yet. Or 
perhaps it is a little girl who has prayed that good old "Kris 
Kingle" would bring her a beautiful doll. She has in mind the 
kind of a doll she desires. It must be of a certain size, with eyes 
that open and shut, must have hair that curls, and must be 
clothed in a dress that is "hem-stitched'' and "herring-boned" 
or "feather-edged." That is, in the absence of the actual object 
— the doll — she has pictured to her mind just how it should 
look when it actually materializes — when it is no longer a fig- 
ment of the imagination — the doll of her dreams — but a real 
"flesh and blood" doll. 

There are two kinds of imagination. When the child cries for 
its lost toy, the act of the imagination simply consists in holding 
before the mind a more or less faithful copy of the toy as seen in 
his previous experiences. The boy comes in at the schoolroom 
door with a small stick in his mouth. The teacher asks him 
what he has in his mouth. He answers, "a cigar." He is told 
that smoking is not allowed in the schoolroom for he might se1 
fire to the clothes of some of the children. He imagines the stick 
to be a cigar, and the teacher tactfully and properly carries out 
the idea. The first of these two cases illustrates the one kind of 
imagination, known as the reproductive imagination. The 
second case represents the second kind of imagination — the kind 
that is to receive more especial attention in this chapter — the 
(onstructi ve imagination. 

You can readily see that the imagination and memory are very 
closely related to each other. In fact, in some of the phases under 
which it manifests itself, one cannot readily distinguish between 
acts of reproductive imagination and memory. Certain it is 
that they are most intimately associated. Unless memory re- 
store the impressions of past experience, who could picture a new 
event or object? How can you imagine a new color without re- 
calling certain colors you have already seen? Principal Russell, 
of the Worcester Normal School, tells us of a boy who, at the age 
of seven, was observed one day as he stood drinking water at a 



278 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

sink, with his back to other people. He was making belioA^e that 
he was drinking in a saloon, and stood with his feet crossed, re- 
marking on the quality of the drink to the imaginary barkeeper. 
He paid imaginary money and received imaginary change. How 
could this stripling of a boy construct any such piece of drama 
without the service rendered by his memory power? 

The distinetion between the reproductible and creative or con- 
structive imagination is as old as Kant; and yet, for more than 
a century Imve psychologists labored to define the exact domain 
of each of these kinds of imagination. For our purpose it is suf- 
ficient to say that the reproductive imagination must furnish all 
the raw material — its function is to reproduce the sense-impres- 
sions. The creative or constructive imagination combines this 
material into an endless variety of forms, but at the same time 
is, to some extent, limited by this self-same material. 

Now, you have already learned that children differ greatly 
with reference to the development of their various sense capaci- 
ties. It has been made plain that no two children see, toilch,hear, 
smell or taste alike. Each child receives a sense-picture of the 
outside world quite different from that received by every other 
child in the universe. Perceiving things different] j — receiving 
such different impressions, you can see quite readily that the raw 
material supplied to the imagination for it to mould and fashion 
at will, is quite different with different individuals. This gives 
rise to enormous individual differences in the imagination among 
children. We shall first take up the differences with respect to 
the reproductive imagination.* 

Psychologists have distinguished at least four different types 
of mind according as the images arising from one or the other of 
the four senses predominate in imagination. We have therefore, 
(1) the tactile type; (2) the visual type ; (3) the auditory type; 
(4) the motor type. 

1. The Tactile Type. To this class belong those individuals 



* Dr. W. H. Burnham gives an iuteresting and exteuded summary of these differ- 
ent types in his excellent article in "The Pedagogical Seminary," Vol. II, No. 2. 
March, 1893. 



IMAGINATION. 279 

who reproduce in the imagination, chiefly such impressions as 
come through the dermal senses, be these impressions within the 
realm of either the temperature, pressure, contact or tickle sense. 
This class is, I think, comparatively small in number and is made 
up chiefly of defectives. The blind deaf-mutes, such as marvel- 
ous Laura Bridgman or Helen Kellar, must obviously belong to 
this type. The celebrated " Franz " case is a good illustration of 
the point in question. Dr. Franz, the surgeon who so skillfully 
treated the young man, satisfled himself, by experiments, that 
the patient could not in the least discern objects by sight. '< My 
experiments led me to the conclusion that his belief that he really 
saw objects resulted solely from his imagination, combined with 
his power of reasoning. In feeling of an object and bringing it 
in contact with the eyelids and the cheek, an idea of the object 
was produced, which was judged of and corrected according to 
the experience he had gained by constant practice. . . . The 
patient's sense of touch has attained an extraordinary degree of 
perfection. In order to examine an object minutely he conveyed 
it to his lips. . . . When made to see by the removal of the 
cataracts from off his eyes and shown geometric figures, he said 
he had not been able to form from these figures, the idea of a 
square and a disk until he perceived a sensation of what be saw 
in the points of his fingers, as if he really touched the objects.^^ 

We are all able to reproduce images of previous touch sensa- 
tions with more or less vividness. The dry-goods merchant is 
rather dependent upon the "feel "of the goods in trying to dis- 
criminate among fabrics as to the quality of their texture. The 
blind student in my class who writes his examination paper by 
means of an ingeniously constructed typewriter, in relying upon 
the touch of the keys, is quite largely dependent upon his tactile 
images. Likewise when he reads from his books in which the 
characters are represented by "raised letters." 

At the World's Fair in my little laboratory I made a series of 
tests upon all visitors who were willing to submit to them, and 
found enormous differences with reference to the reproduction 
of tactile images. Of course, experience and training have every- 



280 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

thing to do with reference to the development of this capacity 
within us. 

2. The Visual Type. The mass of people belong to this class. 
With the large majority of persons visual images predominate in 
their thinking. This is probably the reason that most people pi'ize 
the eye above all the other senses. This you know to be actually 
the case. Ask your pupils which sense they prize most highly, 
and I think they will be quick to tell you that it is the sense of 
vision. This expression of popular opinion finds support in the 
words of Henry D. Thoreau, "the poet naturalist," who says: 
<' The eye does the least drudgery of any of the senses. It often- 
est escapes to a higher employment. The rest serve to escort 
and defend it. I attach some superiority, even priority, to this 
sense. It is the oldest servant in the soul's household. ... If 
any joy or grief is to be expressed, the eye carries the news. . . . 
How man serves this sense more than any other! " 

There are, of course, among this class — the visual type — very 
great individual differences, varying from the visualizing power 
possessed by the ordinary pupil, who can learn his lesson of a 
series of words easier by seeing them than by hearing them, to 
the prodigy among the artists who paints his portraits from 
ideally visualized subjects. 

Professor James clearly illustrates these individual differences 
by two cases which are gleaned from reports made by students of 
his class in Psychology, in response to his inquiry as to their 
mental image of the morning's breakfast table. The one who is 
a good visualizer says: "This morning's breakfast table is both 
dim and bright; it is dim if I try to think of it when my eyes are 
open upon any object; it is perfectly clear and bright if I think 
of it with my eyes closed. All the objects are clear at once, yet 
when I confine my attention to any one object it becomes far 
more distinct. I have more power to recall color than any one 
thing; if, for example, I were to recall a plate decorated with 
flowers, I could reproduce in a drawing the exact tone, etc. The 
color of anything that was on the table is perfectly vivid. There 
is very little limitation to the extent of my images; I can see all 



IMAGINATION. 281 

four sides of a room ; I can see all four sides of two, three, four, 
even more rooms with such distinctness that if you should ask 
me what was in any particular place in any one, or ask me to 
count the chairs, etc., I could do it without the least hesitation. 
The more I learn by heart the more clearly do I see images of my 
pages. Even before I can recite the lines I see them so that I 
could give them very slowly word for word, but my mind is so 
occupied in looking at my printed image that I have no idea of 
what I am saying, of the sense of it, etc. When I first found my- 
self doing this I used to think it was because I knew the lines im- 
perfectly ; but I have convinced myself that I really do see an 
image. The strongest proof that such is really the fact is that I 
can look down the mentally seen page and see the words that 
commence all the lines, and from one of these words I can con- 
tinue the line. I find this much easier to do if the words begin in 
a straight line than if there are breaks." 

On the other hand, the poor visualizer says: "My ability to 
form mental images seems, from what I have studied of other 
people's images, to be defective and somewhat peculiar. The pro- 
cess by which I seem to remember any particular event is not by 
a series of distinct images, but a sort of panorama, the faintest 
impressions of which are perceptible through a thick fog. I can- 
not shut my eyes and get a distinct image of any one, although 
I used to be able to a few years ago, and the faculty seems to 
have gradually slipped away. In my most vivid dreams, where 
the events appear like the most real facts, I am often troubled 
with a dimness of sight which causes the images to appear indis- 
tinct. To come to the question of the breakfast table, there is 
nothing definite about it. Everything is vague. I cannot say 
what I see. I could not possibly count the chairs, but I happen 
to know that there are ten. I see nothing in detail. The chief 
thing is a general impression that I cannot tell exactly what I do 
see. The coloring is about the same, as far as I can recall it, only 
very much washed out. Perhaps the only color I can see distinctly 
is that of the table-cloth, and I could probably see the color of 
the wall pai)er if I could remember what color it was." 



282 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

Fechner, in his pioneer book, Elemente cler Psj('hopbysik,wa,8, 
in all probability, the first to call attention to these personal 
differences with respect to the power of visual imagination. His 
published accounts show great individual diversity. The work of 
gathering a large fund of information capable of being reduced 
to statistical form, anticipated by Fechner, has been admirably 
carried out by Francis Galton, the English psychologist, who first 
published his results in 1880. 

Among other things Galton found that the great majority of 
men of science were very deficient in visualizing power. On the 
other hand, when he made inquiries among people met with in 
general society, he found quite a different state of affairs. " Many 
men, and a yet larger number of women, and many boys and 
girls, declared they habitually saw mental imagery, and that it 
was perfectly distinct to them and full of color. The more I 
pressed and cross-questioned them, the more obvious was the 
truth of their first assertions. They described their imagery in 
minute detail, and then spoke in a tone of apparent surprise at 
my hesitation in accepting what they said. I felt that I myself 
should have spoken exactly as they did, if I had been describ- 
ing a scene that lay before my eyes, to a blind man who persisted 
in doubting the reality of vision." 

It is a mistake to suppose that sharp sight and good visualiz- 
ing power go together. The two faculties are quite independent 
of each other. Galton tells us of persons who read their addresses 
from mentally seen manuscripts. You may have bad pupils who 
could recite their lessons when told on what page and the por- 
tion of the page the topic, concerning which your question dealt, 
was treated and discussed. Some persons see mentally in print, 
every word as it is uttered, and they read off the address from the 
imagined printed page instead of attending to the sound of the 
words as spoken. Galton also found the power of visualizing 
more highly developed in the female sex than inthemale,andtliat 
it is somewhat higher in schoolboys than in men. Thereisstrong 
reason to support the belief that it is very high in some young 
children. Language and book-learning tend to dull this power. 



IMAGINATION. 283 

Margaret Whiting in a recent article* makes an interesting 
confession of her own early childhood experiences with the arith- 
metical tables of addition and multiplication. These notions 
concern the individuality of numbers and began when she was 
about eight years of age, when arithmetic first became known as 
a study. Belief in these notions was held without question forat 
least four years. In her descriptive list she characterizes the 
various numerals as follows: 

" 1, 2, and 3 were children, 4 was a woman, a good, self-sacri- 
ficing woman, who always reminded me of lEdna Kenderdine in 
• A Woman's Kingdom.' 

" 5 was a mischievous 3'oung scamp, with animal spirits, a 
capacity for getting into scrapes, and luck in getting out of them. 

" 6 was a prince, amiable and possessed of very good manners, 
easily cheated by impostors, weak and dependent. 

" 7 was an arrant rogue, full of schemes for his own advantage, 
without regard to others. (A character so unscrupulous that I 
alwaj'S considered him too bad for general society.) 

"8 was a ladj', high-born and haughty, gracious to the unfor- 
tunate, severe to all offenders, a musician, and in all ways ac- 
complished ; by far the most distinguished of the company. 

" 9 was reckless but generous, always helpful to others, always 
disregardful of self. He was very tall and walked so carelessly 
that he often stubbed his toe. 

"10 was a great lord, cold and formal. He took the places 
assigned him as his right, was too elevated in station to help 
or hinder the other people. 

" 11 was the herald of the King. He ran before 12 and pre- 
pared the way for royalty. He was very clever, and was 
always busy. 

"12 was the King. He was merely a majestic figure-head ; and 
noticed only those who had climbed near the throne. 

" The first move of interest in this drama of numbers was caused 
by 5 when he coaxed an innocent child to help him run away 
from home. 5 runs till he reaches 10, but before he gets there he 

*" The Pedagogical Seminary," June, 1892. 



284 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

stops to help 6. 5 cannot put 6 into 12 where he wanted to go, 
and so drops him next door to 12. Though good-natured, 5 is 
easily moved by wickedness, and so is persuaded by the design- 
ing 7 to help him instead of 6, into 12. At this, 8 is so angry 
that she thrusts thoughtless 5 into 13. Here he stays till kind 
9 rescues him and puts him into 14. 2 helps 6 into 12, but he 
cannot stay, for 7 is already there and the place is not large 
enough to hold both. 7 is stronger than 6, and so succeeds in 
putting the unfortunate prince into 13, which is a mild prison. 
8, bent on justice, finds 6, who is crying, but doing nothing 
to get into a better place; she puts him into 14, which is very 
pleasant, but beneath 6's dignity. 7 is already in 14 by the 
aid of 2. 8 turns out 7, and hurls him into 15, which was a 
dungeon.'' 

And so on this drama is carried out, until the combinations 
become almost innumerable. These true memories are said to be 
" more clear to-day than the faces of early playmates." 

Of course, such a marked degree of the power of visual imagin- 
ation is indeed rare, and yet it is more common among children 
than one would be apt to think. George Sand, in recalling her 
childhood experiences, supplies us with a good example by wa^' 
of illustration. She also retained this power to quite an extent in 
later life. "I never look at certain mosses in my herbarium,'" she 
says, " w^ithout finding myself again under the oaks of Frascati. 
A little stone makes me see again all the mountain from which T 
brought it, and recall the same with all the minutest detail from 
top to bottom. The odor of the lisM-on vrille [bindweed] makes 
a terrible Spanish landscape appear before me, of which I know 
neither the name nor the location ; but which I passed by with 
my mother at the age of four." Gu.stave Doro said, " My mind 
is my model for everything." A still more interesting case is that 
related by one of the pupils of Worcester Normal School, of her own 
childhood. "As a rule," she says, " I preferred story books which 
were not illustrated. This was because the illustrations were 
not so beautiful as the pictures which came into my mind while 
listening to, or reading a story. I used to turn the pages over 



• IMAGINATION. 285 

quickly, or if there was print above and below the picture, I used 
to hold ray hand over the picture so that it could not blot out 
tlie one in my mind." 

3. The Auditory Type.— This type is not near so common as 
the visual type; yet there are many poor visualizers who seem to 
have extremely good auditory memories. Many musicians seem 
to belong- to this type — those who sing or play " by ear." It is 
said that Mozart at the age of fourteen, after hearing Allegri's 
Miserere for a single time, as he was forbidden by the popes to 
copy it, reproduced the entire work from memory. Professor 
Stumpf informs us of a f^hild that could follow the scale in singing 
at the extremely early age of fourteen months. 

The difference between the auditory and visual types is well 
shown in the little anecdote, told by Bernard, of Legouve and 
Scribe. " When I write a scene," said Legouve to Scribe, " I bear; 
but you see. In each phrase that I write, the voice of the per- 
sonage who speaks strikes my ears. Your actors walk ; they 
gesticulate before your eyes; I &m si listener, you a spectator." 
" Nothing is more true," said Scribe ; " do you know where I am 
when I write a piece? In the middle of the parterre." 

To one whose mind revels in auditory images it is no diffi- 
cult matter to perform what would otherwise be remarkable 
feats of memory of sounds, as in the example of Mozart cited 
above. 

4. The Motor Type.— With persons of this type the mind in its 
operation deals chiefly witli the images of muscular sensations. 
All of us are quite dependent upon our motor images, especially 
in the common habitual movements involved in utterance, walk- 
ing and the like. These simple movements would be quiteimpos- 
sible without these motor clues, as pathology makes plain to us. 
When the images of certain movements are destroyed, the pa- 
tient can no longer execute those movements, for example, 
aphasia, agraphia, and the like. This is the reason that sensory 
paralysis is always followed by motor paralysis. 

The blind depend quite largely upon their motor images. 
When engaged in reflection, all alone by themselves, they have 



286 PRACTTCAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

been observed to spell out their thoughts with the fingei- alpha- 
bet. Berthier, the deaf-mute, made such a confession of his own 
operations when he says, "Although niy fingers and my hands 
are immovable, I feel, when I think, that they are in activity. I 
see internally the image that they pi'oduee. I feel that my 
thought exercises itself and identifies itself with these movements 
which the external eyes do not see." 

Professor Strieker, of Vienna, has this form of imagination 
(motor) developed to a remarkable degree, and which he himself 
has carefully studied and fullj' described. 

His recollections both of his own movements and those of ob- 
jects are accompanied, invariably, by distinct muscular feelings 
in those parts of. his own body which would naturallj' be used in 
effecting or following the movement. In thinking of a soldiei- 
marching, for example, it is as if he were helping the image to 
march, by marching himself in his rear. And if lie suppresses this 
sympathetic feeling in his own legs, and concentrates all his at- 
tention on the imagined soldier, the latter becomes, as it were, 
paralyzed. In general his imagined movements, of whatsoever 
objects, seem paralyzed the moment no feelings of movement 
either in his own eyes or in his own limbs accompany them. The 
movements of articulate speech phiy a predominant part in his 
mental life. " When after my experimental work I proceed to its 
description," he writes, "as a rule I reproduce in the first in- 
stance only words, which I had alread}- associated with the per- 
ception of the various details of the observation, while the latter 
was going on. For speech plays, in all my observing, so impor- 
tant a part that I ordinarily clothe phenomena in words as fast 
as I observe them." 

If you should inquire among persons as to the sort of terms 
in which they imagine words, most of them will reply "in terms 
of hearing." Not until you draw their attention to the matter 
will they see that the motor images connected with the organs of 
articulation predominate. A good way of clearing up the 
matter to them, is to try the method suggested by Professor 
Strieker. " Partly open your mouth and then imagine an}- word 



IMAGINATION. 287 

with labials or dentals in it, such as ' bubble,' 'toddle.' Is your 
image of the word -under these conditions distinct? To most 
people such an image is at first thick, just as the sound of the 
word would be, if they tried to utter it with the lips parted. 
Many can never imagine the words clearly with the mouth open; 
others succeed after a few preliminary trials." Such an experi- 
ment proves how dependent our imagination of words is upon 
the actual feelings in lips, tongue, throat and larynx. Professor 
Bain goes so far as to say that "a suppressed articulation is in 
fact the material of our recollection, the intellectual raanifestion, 
the idea of speech," 

So then we really have at least four general types of reproduc- 
tive imagination — the tactile, visual, auditory and motor. In 
every person one of these types is more highly developed than 
are all the others. But this extreme development does not of 
necessity exclude the presence of, and a dependence upon, the 
others. In the normal individual all these types are developed. 
We use the visual power to retain what has been learned by read- 
ing; the auditory power to retain what has been gained by hear- 
ing, and the muscular or motor memory to retain what has 
been committed by recitation. Then in the normal type the re- 
produced images are sometimes visual, sometimes motor, some- 
times auditory and sometimes tactile. We all know how very 
different reading a foreign language is from speaking it. For 
three years before I went to Germany, I read some German every 
day, but never spoke a word until I had actually set foot on the 
soil of the Fatherland. A stock of visual images I found quite 
different from the motor images, and both of these very different 
from the auditory images. For I could read and speak German 
before I could understand it when spoken by others. On the 
other hand, I have a friend who in the reading of German is quite 
dependent upon his stock of auditory images. He understands 
German well when he reads it aloud, but if he reads it silently he 
experiences great difficulty. You frequently notice old people who 
continually move their lips when reading mentally, just as they 
would move them when reading aloud. In some schools and with 



288 PRACTICAL LESSONS TN PSYCHOLOGY. 

some children, it is quite a difficult matter to get the pupils to 
study without moving their lips. 

We now come to speak of the constructive, reproductive, or 
creative imagination. I think teachers, as a rule, are apt to 
underestimate the importance of this creative faculty. " With- 
out imagination," says Goodwin, " therecan beno genuine ardor 
in any pursuit, or for any acquisition; and without imagination 
there can be no genuine morality, no profound feeling of other 
men's sorrows, no ardent and persevering anxiety for their 
interests." 

The constructive or creative imagination may assume at least 
three forms under which to manifest itself. These may be crudely 
styled: (1) The intellectual imagination; (2) the practicalim- 
agination — the adapting of means to ends; (3) the artistic or 
poetic imagination. 

Intellectual Imagination. — Every extension of our knowledge 
beyond the domain of personal experience and observation, in- 
volves some degree of imaginative activity. The old principle, so 
often voiced in our ears, that we must proceed from the known to 
the unknown, depends, in its practical application, upon the ex- 
tent to which the imaginative facultjds exercised. In the acquisi- 
tion of new knowledge, every person is dependent upon this power, 
whether the knowledge be of objects, persons, places or events. 
It is especially true in the discovery of new facts by anticipation. 
To illustrate the latter case, take the work of the astronomer in 
his calculation of the time of eclipses so long beforehand, or the 
position of the planets on certain dates. 

With reference to the use of imagination in acquisition, the 
general statement may be made that the process of recalling, 
selecting, and regrouping the traces of personal experience, as 
applied to the new facts presented, is illustrated in every act by 
means of which knowledge is gained. Imagination as well as 
memory is involved in every act called "learning," whether this 
learning be by oral communication or by books. If you wish to 
realize the meaning of a word you must form clear and keen men- 
tal images of the objects and events indicated by the word. Thus 



IMAGINATION. 289 

in following the account of a battle, the child begins with his own 
limited experiences called up by the words involved in the descrip- 
tion of the battle-scene. 

Have you ever seriously thought of the actual fact that what 
is known as understanding a teacher's description, depends to a 
great extent upon the success of the pupil's imaginative effort? 
For example, you are describing an ocean steamer to your class 
of young pupils, and they fail to comprehend (or image) its mag- 
nitude ; how can you expect them to realize the functions per- 
formed by ocean steamers in commercial navigation? If you are 
describing a fort, such as existed during the time of the "French 
and Indian Wars," and you fail to make clear to their minds the 
necessity of such a protection, how can you expect them to ap- 
preciate the difference between a fort made of logs and stones, and 
one whose walls were simply piles of crumbling earth? Ever and 
always must our educational methods take cognizance of the 
fact, that there is a close relation between clear imagination and 
clear thinking. 

Again, in all discovery of new facts we find that the processes 
of simple observation are greatly assisted by the imagination. 
The scientific student must ever invent hypotheses for the ex- 
planation of facts. In this he is aided by the imagination, for his 
hypothesis stands or falls upon the, as yet unobserved, results, 
which results he must picture as fast as possible beforehand. The 
chemist must picture to his mind the action of certain substances 
on each other, before he can assure you or even himself of the 
nature of the compound produced by their being mixed together. 

Practical Imagination. — But more clear, perhaps, is the part 
played by the imagination in the practical line of invention of 
the various mechanical devices which have proved such a blessing 
to our generation in the development of our natural resources. 
Robert Fulton pictured to his mind the advantages of a steam- 
boat before he ever attempted its construction. Could Morse 
have worked so assiduously, against such discouragements, in 
his endeavors to perfect the telegraph, had it not been for the 
picture of the enormous convenience the now indispensable tele- 

L. P.-19 



290 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

graph would prove to the world ? That picture was supplied by 
the creative imagination. It was the same thing that raised 
Edison from the humble position of a telegraph messenger to 
that of the foremost inventor of the world. When a poor man, 
a few j^ears ago, he suggested that a means could be contrived 
whereby a message could be sent and received over the same wire 
at the same time. He was laughed to scorn by his fellow work- 
men. But the cherished image remained in his mind, and as a 
result of that mental picture which was stereotyped on Edison's 
brain we have the "Duplex" key now adopted into general use 
in telegraphic service. The projector of the "Ferris Wheel," 
which is one of the greatest engineering feats of modern times, 
was laughed at and regarded as crazy by many whom he ap- 
proached with his plans. The evolution from the sickle to the 
"self-binder," in harvesting grain, is the result of the acts of the 
creative imagination. Every invention, whether it be of a useful 
mechanical contrivance that has blessed the world, or some ar- 
tistic design that has made men appreciate the beautiful— every 
single invention finds its genesis in the imagination of some 
individual. 

It is in a sense fortunate that children possess this imagina- 
tive faculty to such a degree. That they do possess this power 
is seen so plainly in their plays and games. I have seen children 
in playing, use as dolls such various articles as a stick of wood, a 
knife, a clothes-pin, a newspaper, an ear of corn, and a milk can. 
You remember the remark of Budge in "Helen's Babies," who 
said " We doesn't like buyed dolls." A wax doll with flaxen curls 
is a fine thing to have laid away in the bureau drawer— to look 
at semi-occasionally ; but for good , rollicking, genuine, every-day 
fun the child chooses the old rag doll. A toy is not something to 
look at and observe merely, but it must admit of being done 
something with ; the more possibilities that the toy offers in this 
line the better toy it is. 

Likewise in their attributing personality to inanimate objects, 
A little boy eighteen months old tried to make his doll eat bread 
and cried when he found it could not be made to eat. Children 



IMAGINATION. 291 

love to think of their toys and of other objects, as living things. 
Mr. Russell reports the ease of little Hildur, a child aged one 
year, seven months. "Just as Mrs. L. brought Hildur in, I acci- 
dentally knocked a chair down on the floor. Hildur began to cry, 
and when I called her she did not move. I went towards her, at 
the same time picking up the chair. She ceased crying as soon as 
the chair had been picked up. About ten minutes later, I put the 
chair down on the floor again, and as soon as she saw it, she 
began to cry, and when I picked it up, she stopped." 

That children attribute sensibility to objects, especially a 
capacity for suffering, is quite a well-known fact. I remember well, 
a little boy who wanted his mamma to whip the wind for blow- 
ing his hat off. My own little girl has often asked me on seeing 
me light the open flre in the grate, " Papa, don't it burn the fire 
and hurt it when you make it blaze so ? " 

The average child seems to live half his life in a world of make- 
believe. How often do we hear children say to each other, "Play 
you were so-and-so, "or such remarks as "I'll be the papa and you 
be the mamma, Mary will be the hired girl and the rest will be the 
ladies who came toseeus." Andtheimagedobjectsaretothechild 
real objects. Not long ago my little girl was playing Sunday- 
school, laying especial stress on instrumental music and "the col- 
lection' ' as the more important features of the ideal Sunday-school. 
She was using a chair for her piano, and while she was out of the 
room for a moment her mamma sat down in this self-samechair, 
without thinking of its newly assigned function. Gretchen , on com- 
ing into the room, noticing her mamma seated in this particular 
chair, exclaimed in apainfulway, "Oh mamma, you are sitting on 
the piano!" Again, one day she and herbrother Stuart were play- 
ing that they were keeping house. Gretchen was the " mamma," 
and Stuart the " papa." When called to luncheon Gretchen got 
to the wash pan first and was preparing herself for dinner, at the 
same time teasing her brother with the thought that she was 
going to beat him to the table. Stuart burst out crying with 
theexclamatiou — " Oh, Gretchen won't let 'papa' (meaning him- 
self) have the basin." 



292 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

Many children seem to actually believe that it pains flowers to 
tear or burn them, that in the summer when the tree is alive it 
makes it ache to chop or pound it. Thunder, which is an unac- 
countable mystery in the child world, is said by some children to 
be God "groaning " or "kicking." Others say that it is caused 
by God "rolling barrels about," "turning a big handle," 
"throwing logs," "having coal run in," "hitting the clouds," 
or by the clouds " bumping together." Most of children's fancies 
seem to cluster about the sky, sun, moon and stars. 

When the dew is on the grass the child says, " The grass is cry- 
ing; " when the stars come out they are "candles" or "street 
lamps lighted by angel boys," or they are "sparks from fire-en- 
gines," or " cinders from God's stove." Butterflies are conceived 
by some to be"pansies flying," and others call icicles " Christ- 
mas candy." 

Play offers a wide scope for the child's practical ingenuity. 
Play owes its chief charm to mimicry and a kind of make-believe 
of the action of adults. Much childish play owes its charm to a 
sort of partial self-deception. Children imagine or make believe 
they are animals, soldiers, Indians, hunters and veritable Davy 
Crocketts, Daniel Boones and Buffalo Bills. They play church, 
school, circus or congress. If hitwith imaginary bullets from im- 
aginary guns they fall down and play they are dead. If they step 
on a crack when walking on the sidewalk, they are "going to 
have bad luck" or are "poisoned." What child has not played 
with mud pies, moss carpets, brooms made of pine tufts, cucum- 
ber pigs and horses with eyes of tacks, or a train of cars made of 
chairs? All this is done by the "alchemy of the imagination." 
Only a rough basis of analogy is needed for these creations of 
fancy. A boy will derive as much and even more pleasure from 
riding a stick as he will from possessing the most richly capari- 
. soned hobby-horse. 

This same imaginative exuberance manifests itself in another 
form. A child who has heard a number of stories will display 
great activity and ingenuity in inventing new ones. This free, 
spontaneous fancy is apt to assume extravagant shapes and ex- 



IMAGINATION. 293 

aggerated colorings. Thus one teacher reports that Alfred, aged 
six, "was dining at our house to-night. During dinner one of 
the company told of a horse-chestnut tree that had red blossoms. 
My father said he never heard of red blossoms on a horse-chestnut 
tree before, and wanted to know on what street it was. On hearing 
this A. said, ' My teacher told us to-day of an apple tree and the 
blossoms on it were blue.' Hewasasked,'Did your teacher tell you, 
where itcould beseen?' A. answered, 'Yes, but it'sdown on Winter 
street in Boston, so you can't see it.' My father said it would be 
worth while to go to Boston just to see that tree, and he thought 
he could see it when he went on Wednesday, since he knew what 
street it was on. A. did not say anything for quite awhile, and 
then he suddenly spoke up, remarking, ' I forgot to tell you that 
a storm knocked all the blossoms off that apple tree, so I don't 
think you can see it.' " 

Children are apt to jfind great excitement in the marvelous, and 
they delight in turn to excite others. This frequently leads them 
to tell their grotesque stories surcharged with everything but 
truth. "To fly up to the sky " is not an impossible act for the 
average child to perform. 

The indulgence in these pleasures of fancy and the imagination 
involves certain risks if entirely uncontrolled. It is, however, legiti- 
mate within certain bounds and should be stimulated, in a large 
measure, in early childhood. In later youth the exaggerated ex- 
ercise of this power may involve dangers, both moral and intel- 
lectual. The child that lives always in the world of wonderland, 
and dwells continually on the romantic figures clothed by the 
imagination, may be unable at the proper time, to adjust himself 
to actual surroundings, and he will naturally grow discontented 
with the world as it is, continually chafing because out of har- 
mony with life as actually lived. 

Or such an one may become thoroughly satisfied with this 
image world, created bj*^ extensive and prolonged indulgence of 
the imagination, and in this way be rendered incapable of dealing 
with real objects as they present themselves to his sensorium. 

Again, it can be readily seen, that if the imaginative activity 



294 • PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

is thus divorced from the really fixed mental standards by which 
the correctness of reasoning and other intellectual processes is 
discerned and passed upon by the judgment, the attainment of 
truth in all investigation and research is hindered. When the 
imagination is given over to the sway of the emotions, rather 
than to the control and guidance of the intellect, the sway of feel- 
ing gives a capriciousness to the workings of the imagination, 
rendering this creative power utterly unfit for the calm and 
steady pursuit of truth. The student whose imagination obeys 
the behests of feeling is prevented from clearly discriminating 
among the facts he is trying to investigate in an unbiased way, 
and becomes the victim of vagueness as well as exaggeration. In 
evoking one's stronger feelings, imagination puts a cataract over 
the eye of judgment, rendering the mind of the student unfit 
for cool, scrutinizing, careful, painstaking investigation and 
research. 

But when properly guided the imagination is of imraenise intel- 
lectual value. It is, as has already been stated, indispensable in 
teaching, in invention, in study, in passing from the known to 
the unknown. The teacher must orientate himself into the child's 
world— put himself in the child's place— in order to know just 
what sort of mental menu to place before the child— that he may 
know just what food is best calculated for the child's intellect to 
digest and assimilate at each stage of development. 

The ordinary practical person is apt, at first thought, to sneer 
at the imagination as if it were a useless appendage to the mind 
— a sort of "peacock's tail"— beautiful, brilliant and gay, but 
serving only to retard the progress of real mental growth. We 
are quite apt to overlook the intellectual service rendered by this 
faculty in the pursuit and acquisition of knowledge. But a deep 
look into the mind as a whole, an organized unit, reveals to us 
the fact that the imagination, instead of being opposed and an- 
tagonistic to the intellect, constitutes an essential factor in the 
intellectual processes and in mental growth. 

With the normal person, after the early childish fancies have 
been indulged for a term of years, moderation comes of itself as 



IMAGINATION. 295 

a natural result. The child becomes more matter-of-fact, and his 
early spontaneous fancies pass into more regular forms, con- 
trolled and directed by an enlightened will. This is evinced in the 
mental revels of the child. The activity of the imagination now 
becomes more and more influenced by the sense of what is true 
and actual. He can no longer be satisfied with a sky-blue hip- 
popotamus, the old nursery tales or fairy stories. He likes to hear 
stories that are in actual touch with real life. He prefers accounts 
of the actual or probable doings of children to all the literature 
of the Jack-and-the-Bean-stalk variety. Still it is unfortunate 
if this period manifests itself too early in the child's course of 
development. He will be all the stronger and more powerful as 
a thinker, certainly more original, if he spend his earliest years 
in contemplating fancy's pictures. 

How delightful to be an unobserved listener at children's 
games ! Oftentimes have I concealed myself behind the trailing 
vines that clamber up over the piazza, to hear the conversation 
of a covey of young children on the lawn below. How easy then 
to see the relation that obtains between the wilder and more 
rambling ravings of the imagination, and the period of the 
child's development! The average child of three or four years 
will be quick to tell of a pig with six legs, a horse with three ears, 
a mouse as big as a dog, blue apple-blossoms and pink cats. 
But the older child will at once correct these tales by their own 
standards, gained from real experience. Children will tell their 
semi-plausible stories as long as the listener will express astonish- 
ment. When his accounts no longer evoke wonder, the child is very 
apt to part company with pseudomania. I have observed children 
play contentedly in their world of make-believe until they discov- 
ered that I, an alien, was looking on, when they would become 
confused and run to me quickly to explain that they were only 
playing, seeming half ashamed of the fact that they were revel- 
ing, in their play, with imaginary entities. In this way, it occurs 
to me that of itself, the early imaginary impulse in its crude form 
is replaced by a desire to learn about things, and by a regard for 
what is actually true in the world of external nature and of life 



296 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

itself. The imagination gradually becomes a handmaiden serv- 
ing the ends of knowledge. The toys no longer serve as "lay 
figures round which the child may weave and drape his fancies." 
He prefers a more real life. In this connection it is interesting 
to note the following quotation from Mr. Newell's "Games and 
Songs of American Children." 

" Observe a little girl who has attended her mother for an air- 
ing in some city park. The older person, quietly seated by the 
footpath, is half-absorbed in reverie; takes little notice of pas- 
sers-by, or of neighboring sights or sounds, further than to cast 
an occasional glance, which may inform her of the child's securitj'-. 
The other, left to her own devices, wanders contentedly within the 
limited scope, incessantly prattling to herself; now climbing an 
adjoining rock, now flitting like a bird from one side of the path- 
way to the other. Listen to her monologue, flowing as inces- 
santly and musically as the bubbling of a spring ; if you can catch 
enough to follow her thought, you will flnd a perpetual romance 
unfolding itself in her mind. Imaginary persons accompany her 
footsteps; the properties of a childish theater exist in her fancy; 
she sustains a conversation in three or four characters. The 
roughness of the ground, the hasty passage of a squirrel, the 
chirping of a sparrow, are occasions sufficient to suggest an ex- 
change of impressions between the unreal figures with which her 
world is peopled. If she ascends, not without a stumble, the ar- 
tificial rockwork, it is with the expressed solicitude of a mother 
who guides an infant by the edge of a precipice; if she raises a 
glance to the waving green overhead, it is with the cry of pleasure 
exchanged by playmates who trip from home on a sunshiny day. 
The older person is confined within the barriers of memory and 
experience; the younger breathes the free air of creative fancy." 

Again, every teacher knows, or ought to know, that if we seek to 
get clear ideas respecting the nature of the objects of admiration 
and love which keep the lives of children sweet and wholesome, 
we find that all the kinds of love and admiration which decide 
what shall be the general tenor of their life, the relation in which 
they will stand to their fellow creatures, what shall be the occu- 



IMAGINATION. 297 

pation of their leisure time — I say all these certainly fall into two 
great classes : (1) Those interests which center in the study of 
nature [botany, geology, zoology, and the like] ; and (2) the 
class of studies that inquire into feelings, actions, and thoughts 
of man himself. All the interests which keep human life in the 
right channels belong to one or the other, or both of these two 
classes. Have you ever fully realized that no human being canlive 
a healthy, normal life unless he admire nature or the best and 
highest thoughts, feelings, and actions of man ? The men of fine 
texture, the men of fine heart and brain fiber, the men of true no- 
bility, are men who have been deeply influenced by admiration 
and love of nature. But such admiration can never be made pos- 
sible without the presence of the idealizing faculty— the creative 
imagination. 

You well know that a great poem or drama, a book of travel, 
a descriptive narrative, written by a man who loved nature, can 
hardly be said to exist for those who do not themselves know na- 
ture, for they cannot orient themselves into the writer's thoughts 
and moods. The children who are growing up in our homes, and 
more especially in our crowded cities, in ignorance of all such 
things as flowers and trees and birds, are ignorant also of all kinds 
of human achievements made beautiful in form or color; the 
place in the hearts of these children, that ought to be filled with 
feelings and thoughts supplied by beautiful things in nature and 
by the beautiful products of human art, is filled instead with feel- 
ings and thoughts evoked by a little shrunken, shriveled world 
of small, grimy houses with gloomy surroundings. 

How fortunate it is that the child naturally seeks for the beau- 
tiful! But you must remember that the beauty the child gains in 
his quest, is found to be beautiful because it corresponds to a cer- 
tain ideal (crude though it be) supplied by the child's own creative 
imagination. I know a certain teacher who was most tactful in 
discipline and most delightful as an instructor. Every one of her 
scholars thought her beautiful. I remember one exuberant boy 
saying, "Miss M. is the most beautifulest lady in the world. She's 
just handsome." And yet as a matter of fact she was the home- 



298 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY, 

liest person I have ever seen. The beauty the boy perceived was 
an ideal beauty, but based upon certain qualities which evoked 
the child's admiration and love. 

I was recently made acquainted with the following little inci- 
dent, by a friend : " I asked a ragged little child on the street," 
said this friend, "which she would rather have, the red carnation 
in my button-hole or a dime. She eagerly took the flower. Nor 
could I induce her to exchange by extravagant stories of all the 
nice things she could buy with the money. She only clutched the 
flower the tighter." This little scarlet blossom corresponded 
to the child's ideal of beauty. This ideal was supplied by the 
imaginative faculty. 

Experience has proven that a large proportion of persons who 
have attained the age of thirteen, ignorant of reading, writing 
and arithmetic, and yet have, after that age, learned as much 
reading, writing and arithmetic as they needed to lead useful 
lives. But alongside this is the other fact that experience has 
also demonstrated, that persons who reach the age of thirteen 
without admiring and loving admirable and lovable things, 
seldom make good that defect in after life. 

What objects of sympathy those vacant-eyed children are, who, 
though they look at you, do not see you ! " Joe, what are you 
thinking about? " " I ain't thinking of nothin'." Right here is 
made plain the function of the modern kindergarten. In the 
kindergarten the child plays again and again with the same little 
box of blocks, eight in number and alike as to shape. He soon 
finds how readily they respond to his fancy, and takes dehght in 
them day after day. His experience is the same with respect to 
the sheet of paper, the lump of clay and the little bundle of sticks. 
You can see then, that a new idea is graven upon his mind — 
How much can be clone with how little! Is not this a most 
important idea for the child to grasp and retain ? 

What significance it has for his after life 1 How much is gained 
by the child who has revealed to him, in his kindergarten life, the 
superiority of a pleasure that comes from the use of his own 
thought and power upon simple, crude material ! Then it is that 



IMAGINATION. 299 

he lives the sentiment of Carlyle's noble thought — " Not what I 
know, but what I do, is my kingdom." 

I have in mind now a very industrious little fellow, but who 
was the most unimaginative child I have ever known. He had 
no sense of humor whatever. But when put into the kindergarten 
it did not take long to develop in him a most decided sense of 
humor, and the keenest perception of fun. In a short time he was 
transformed from the grim, sober, play less little child into one 
lively, happy, and vivacious. 

Not long ago I spent a few moments in observing a band of 
these sunshiny kindergarten chicks at their morning games. My 
little Gretchen was a member of the group. Her nut-brown hair 
falls in graceful curls to her shoulders. One keen little fellow, who 
was occupied with a cylinder, noticing these, exclaimed, "Oh, 
Miss Kate, Gretchen has cylinders on her head ! " Gretchen began 
to feel all over her head with her hand to find the wooden blocks, 
as she supposed. All this time the little fellow who made the re- 
mark was shaking his sides with laughter. After awhile the rest 
of the children, and Gretchen herself, saw the joke. Without an 
active imagination the relation between the curls and the wooden 
cylinder would never have been perceived by the keen, bright-eyed 
child. 

Although, through the child's added sense experiences and the 
development of his powers of judgment and reasoning, the wilder 
ravings of his fancy become curbed, it is a serious mistake to 
suppose that the imaginative power ceases to grow. It simply 
"changes tack "and follows more fruitful and beneficial lines than 
it did in earlier childhood. The power of the youth's construct- 
ive imagination goes on developing, at the same time inducing a 
gradual enrichment and deepening of all his mental faculties. 
Why can the child of twelve follow the narrative of a historical 
book, or book of adventure, better than a child of eight? Sim- 
ply because his higher development of the constructive imagi- 
nation enables him to group the elements of recorded experience 
with greater facility. 

It is a comparatively modern notion that the function of the 



300 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

true educator involves the guidance of the imagination of his 
pupils as well as their other mental powers. Formerly it wascon- 
ceived that if the educator had anything at all to do in the guid- 
ance of this special faculty, that guidance or direction should 
take the nature of a smothering or repression of its activity. It 
is a delightful relief to note that a marked change in point of 
view has come to pass with reference to the way in which the 
child's creative fancy should be treated by the teacher. It is re- 
freshing to observe that the modern, wide-awake teacher is turn- 
ing his attention more and more to the problem of helping to de- 
velop the imaginative faculty in some worthy manner, such as 
will contribute to the mental health of the child and retain har- 
mony among all the powers of mind — the harmony that charac- 
terizes the normally developed child. 

That there should be some educational discipline of the imag- 
inative faculty goes without saying. But this discipline should 
by no means be a repression of the power itself. It is a source of 
great regret that educators have been apt to overestimate the 
evils of indulging in flights of the imagination on the part of 
children. The child's imaginative creations are most natural to 
the mind at its early stages of development, and assist in inciting 
it to new achievements and further development. Furthermore, 
it is most important and appropriate that the child create this 
fairy-like world, if the best elements of his mental make-up are 
to be conserved. Natural? What is more natural than the 
following incident from the life of a boy: "Six-year-old A, had 
found a dead hen. He got a few old papers, some twigs and 
a few sticks of kindling wood, and piled them up in a regular 
way; he then cut off a few pieces of twigs that stuck out. He 
put the old hen on top of the pile and set fire to it. His mother 
came out just as the fire commenced burning the hen, and she 
asked him what he was doing. He replied: 'I am offering a 
sacrifice for the sins of all the neighbors.'"* Observe almost 
any normal child from day to day, and see the thousand and one 
imitative acts which he is impelled to perform by the influence of 

* T"rom the collection of observations at the Worcester Normal School. 



IMAGINATION. 301 

hie irrepressible imagination. Do this even for a short time, and 
you will be fully convinced that the child's creative fancy sup- 
plies a large portion of that little world in which he lives and 
moves and has his being. Furthermore, the so-called harmful ef- 
fects are found to be very temporary and evanescent in character. 

You see, then, that while in certain directions and on compara- 
tively rare occasions the educator has to check and impose a 
limit upon too extravagant an activity of the productive imagi- 
nation, his larger obligations to the child make it really incum- 
bent upon the teacher to aid in the development of this faculty. 
No better preparation for the serious work of later years than 
the spontaneous and playful exercise of this creative fancy can 
be conceived. Do not — as you value the child's mental develop- 
ment—do not be too anxious to check the childish vagaries 
created by his imagination. Neither intellect nor character will 
be harmed by them, and to a large extent they may be left to 
correct themselves. 

While it seems to be the rule that imaginative children are at 
first slow at their lessons in the more matter-of-fact school work, 
it is also true that the child whose imagination has been well 
directed by helpful stories and descriptions, will, other things 
being equal, be the best learner at school. What better exercise 
than these stories that appeal to the imagination of the child can 
be devised for cultivating the child's power of concentrated atten- 
tion, so essential to learning in the school and to all mental ad- 
vancement? Besides, it is a question — a most serious question — 
whether it is a part of wisdom to have the curriculum of the 
primary grades made up of the matter-of-fact studies. Far better 
for the child, is the revised one-syllable edition of " Robinson Cru- 
soe" than the old barbarous attempts to teach him the abstract 
multiplication table. Early, careful nurture of the imagination, 
by means of wholesome and well-selected food, has a great deal 
to do in determining the scope of intellectual activity that is 
ultimately attained by the child. 

Of course, to train the imagination wisely the educator must 
pay close attention to the natural laws of its operation. In im- 



802 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

posing tasks upon the child, that involve the activity of the con- 
structive or creative imagination, be very careful to make those 
tasks simple and adapted to the stage of the child's development, 
You can never be successful in calling the child's imagination into 
exercise, unless he has an ample stock of those experiences out of 
which the picture must be constructed. Thechild cannotmakeone 
single advance step into the world of the unknown unless he can 
construct analogies. I remember once, when trying to instruct a 
couple of very young children as to the appearance of a mountain, 
I gave a rather elaborate description of its elevation and general 
appearance, but one of them — a little four-year-old — did not seem 
to comprehend. But his sister, only a year older, made it per- 
fectly plain to him by telling him " a mountain looks like a great 
big chocolate drop — bigger than all the houses and all the trees." 
Her simple analogy, so crudely expressed, did much more to in- 
still clear ideas into the mind of that child, because it was in touch 
with his limited stock of actual experiences. 

Again, in cultivating the imagination you must call it into 
exercise gradually. You mustsuit the imageyou bring before the 
child's mind, not only to his stock of experiences with actually 
perceived objects, and with due regard to the order in which the 
faculties unfold and develop, but your images must be suited to 
the degree of imaginative power already attained. Don't spring 
a complicated story of adventure on a child who has never heard 
the simpler traditional stories of babyhood. 

Furthermore, due notice must be taken of the main condition 
of success in all instruction— the awakening of keen and lively 
interest. If you are seeking to call the child's constructive pow- 
ers into play, you must provide materials that appeal to his feel- 
ings. Without appeal to the child's feelings of sympathy, amuse- 
ment, admiration, pathos and the like, no lively interest will 
result from your efforts, be they ever so great. 

So much " Children's Literature" is insipid, flat, and uninter- 
esting because the above-mentioned pedagogical principles are 
overlooked. Thosepainfully didactic, "namby-pamby," "goody- 
goody " stories in little green books with chromo covers, such as 



IMAGINATION. 303 

used to be presented to us as a " Eeward of Merit" by our Sun- 
day-school teachers, never succeed in gaining the attention of the 
average child, because they are not properly gauged to fit his ex- 
periences or evoke his interest. This " sugar-water " literatureis 
as deleterious in its effects as are those books in which the writers 
describe scenes and impressions quite beyond the child's mental 
reach, because they cannot look at the world with the eyes of a 
child, but retain their red and blue spectacles of prejudice and old- 
fogy ism. The book of the child must be clear and free from all 
allusions that are above and bej'ond him, but it must also be not 
too simple, leaving no room for his creative power. To give a 
child a book whose contents leave no place for efforts of the im- 
agination is as ridiculous as to tell an adult person — a full-grown 
man — sitting for a picture at the photographer's, " Now watch 
closely and listen, and you will see the kitty or hear the 
birdie ; " on the other hand, to give thechildtoo " old " a book is 
as absurd as to tell a three-months old baby, when trying to get 
its first picture," Now smile, look pleasant and don't gesticulate." 

A problem beset with many practical difficulties, arises when 
we begin to discuss the exact nature of the training we would 
give the child's imagination. Itwasshown earlier in the chapter 
that there are great individual differences among children with 
respect to imaginative power. Not only are they representatives 
of the tactile, visual, auditory or motor type, but they differ wide- 
ly in their ability to combine the raw material of thought. 
These great individual differences that we find in children, with 
respect to both reproductive and creative imagination, are of 
utmost importance to education and must be borne in mind in 
every discussion of pedagogical method. 

In view of all these shades of differences that characterize the 
tactile, motile, visual and auditory types respectively, as well as 
the differences in creative power, manifested in all degrees, fi-om 
the stupid, prosaic child to the most confirmed idealist — in view 
of these differences, many questions of vital interest arise within 
the mind of the educator. Is one type of mind better than all the 
others? If so, should the teacher tear down in order that he may 



304 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

reconstruct the child? Should the teacher conform his methods 
to the child's type of mind, using pictures, reading charts, dia- 
grams and the like, for the good visualizer; kindergarten occupa- 
tions, sloyd, reading aloud, and other oral exercises for the mo- 
tor t3'pe? Or should the teacher, on the other hand, check any 
tendency to specialize in any one class of mental images ? Should 
the child be permitted to deal in only one "line of goods?" 
Should the teacher aim to supply deficiencies, i. e., should he seek 
to transform the poor visualizer into a good visualizer? Should 
he seek to develop the child equally well along all lines traversed 
by the imagination in its activity ? 

To illustrate what I mean : Should the teacher, in teaching the 
alphabet (if the alphabet should be taught at all), first accus- 
tom the child's ear to the sounds, .then appeal to the motor 
images and teach him pronunciation, and finally the forms of 
letters, as some prominent writers maintain? Or should all 
three of the operations be carried on at once, each re-inforcing 
the other, which is, I believe the prevailing custom? These are 
questions which cannot be answered without appeal to experi- 
ment. A system of tests ought to be devised and accurate rec- 
ords preserved. Such experimental tests have not as yet been 
made. For a time, then, we must hold our questions in solution 
until experimental pedagogy determines the best path to follow. 
Of course here and there we can make special observations and 
special applications in individual cases. But as yet there is 
insufficient data to guide us to well authenticated general con- 
clusions. 

In whatever way these questions are answered by future appeal 
to experiment, certain it is that the different degrees of devel- 
opment attained by the imagination, as well as the different ten- 
dencies of this development in different children, must account in 
a measure, for the oft observed fact that a group of children, sur- 
rounded by the same educational influences, make such different 
progress. If the teacher lay especial stress upon the eye-method, 
he will most certainly handicap those of the class who think 
chiefly in auditory images, and vice versa. Again, manual train- 



IMAGINATION. 305 

ing, drawing, writing, clay modeling, all appeal to the child's 
stock of motor images. Instruction in gymnastics and athletics 
is one of the best methods of training the child in this line, as 
musical instruction is the best method of training his power of 
imaging in terms of audition. 

While we cannot treat of each of the methods in detail, we are 
inclined to the view that in education we should use every ave- 
nue to the mind, that is open — every sense should be appealed 
to; eye, ear, hand, muscles, etc., should all be made use of in 
securing normal development, for all the strings of the soul's 
harp must be in tune if there be harmony and not discord when 
the demands for activity are made upon it by the emergencies of 
practical life. 

It is greatly to be feared that each teacher will adopt that type 
of instruction which proceeds in terms of his own method of think- 
ing. If he be agood visualizer, he will instruct his class in terms of 
visual images ; if he belong to the auditory type, he will color all 
his methods with the auditory hue, and likewise as to the motor 
and tactile types of instructors. Teachers are apt to think that 
their pupils have the same way of regarding things as they them- 
selves. So our professional teacher, who finds one method suited 
to his type of mind, will adhere to it as the only method and be 
blind to the good features of all other methods. No method has 
ever been devised that will admit of universal application. In 
closing this chapter, we must reiterate, that in the work of instruct- 
ing a child, the teacher must always exercise his own powers of 
imagination, and must also appeal continually to the germs of 
imaginative effort which are present in every normal child. 

L. P. —20 



LESSON XXII. 

REASONING. 

Whenever the mind passes from one fact to another in thought, 
considering the first as a sort of sign or indication of the second, 
it is said to reason or infer. To infer is to find out what will be 
true, on the basis of something else being true. Thus I infer when 
Isay: " If this gunpowder is damp, it will not explode." Or,if on 
looking out of the window we see the sky overcast with threaten- 
ing clouds, and as a result of this observation predict rain, we 
are said to be engaged in a process of reasoning. You tell the 
child that if he touch the cake of ice with his hand, his hand will 
feel cold. The conviction that you have, and which you express 
to the child, is based upon an observation of certain of your own 
experiences, which observation has led you to regard <' coldness" 
as an essential mark or attribute of ice. 

The real basis of inference is found to be a discovery of similar- 
ity among facts or experiences. You awaken in the morning and 
glance at the clock on the mantel-piece to learn the time of day. 
You know that this particular object is a clock because it corre- 
sponds to the remembered image of clocks you have already seen, 
including this one. It looks thus and so. It has a dial, hands, 
certain characters or figures on its face, and ticks, just like other 
clocks. Because it looks thus and so, you feel justified in saying 
that it is a clock, and you do so by a process of reasoning. Sup- 
pose the clock is not ticking, you reason at once that this par- 
ticular clock has stopped, for all going clocks that you have 
observed heretofore do tick. You sleepily turn your eyes toward 
the window and you see it is quite light out of doors. Just then 
yon hear a shop-whistle blow. You infer that it is time to get 
up because it is light, and you infer further that it is seven o'clock 
because the particular whistle you heard always "blows" at 
seven o'clock. Then you begin to dress. Every act in this pro- 
(306) 



REASONING. 307 

cedure is based upon reasoning of some sort or other, though 
the reasoning process itself may be abbreviated. You do 
not begin your operations by first putting on your hat, shoes 
and necktie, for that would be an unreasonable method of pro- 
cedure. You seat yourself at the breakfast table because you 
know from previous experience that in order to get your break- 
fast you must be sea.ted at the table. You eat certain foods, 
knowing they agree with you. Yousay," Good morning, Mary," 
because by an act of reasoning you know that "Mary" looks 
thus and so, and this person looks and acts the same way, you 
conclude that this person before you and Mary are one and the 
same person. In all these mental processes you are basing your 
conclusions upon the detection of similarity among facts and 
experiences, just as you do when you predict a shower on observ- 
ing the clouded sky, you identify the present appearance of the 
sky with previously observed appearances which were actually 
followed by rain. In inference, therefore, we identify things or 
events in their relation to other things or events. You can see 
also that this is indispensable to mental progress, for by means 
of this capacity of inference we can proceed from facts actually 
seen and observed at the moment — the known fact — to other 
facts that we do not have before us at the time — the unknown. 

Do you realize that all of us are reasoning every movement of 
our wakeful consciousness ? Of course one is not always con- 
scious of going through a process of reasoning. You say you 
see the clock, you hear the whistle, you know it is seven o'clock, 
and so on, when you really infer in each case. When I say, " Wet 
gunpowder will not explode, " I am expressing in an abbreviated 
form an actual process of reasoning. I look out of my study 
window just now and I say, " The ground is wet." But I cannot 
see the ground at all from where I am sitting, yet I know the 
ground is wet, for I see it raining. So when I say the ground is 
wet, I have actually reasoned in such form as this : 

When it is raining the ground is wet. 

It is raining. 

Therefore, the ground is wet. 



308 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

When one is not conscious of the actual reasoning process, we 
say in such cases, his reasoning is implicit. In this lower and 
abbreviated form of reasoning, one passes in thought from one 
fact to another fact without explicitly setting forth the ground 
or reason of the conclusion. Thus the child will infer that water 
will wet, without making clear to his mind the general principle 
that all water wets. When he breaks his toy and says, " I can't 
mend it, but papa can," he does so without being conscious of the 
general truth that lies at the basis of his statement, namely, that 
his father is more skillful in repairing broken toys than he is 
himself. We call this implicit reasoning, because in this method 
of inferring from particulars to particulars, certain general prin- 
ciples or conclusions are implied, but not expressed. 

This is, of course, only the lower type of reasoning. It is a 
very primitive and instinctive mode of inference. The lower ani- 
mals infer as to the proximity of prey or the approach of enemies 
in this implicit way. Children likewise draw conclusions in the 
same informal manner. Certain it is that the first reasonings of 
a child are of this character. The child sees a round, smooth, 
red object and says: "I want the apple," thinking that this 
round, smooth, red object possesses certain potential tastes as 
have other round, smooth, red objects which he has been taught 
to call apples. All such recognition is the product of reasoning. 
You observe a man passing by your dooi'yard. You say : "That 
is the same man I saw at church last Sunday," When asked why 
you think so, you reply : " I know it is the same man because he 
has such and such a shaped face, a peculiarly trimmed beard and 
wears a suit of clothes of a certain particular shade of gray," 
and so on, enumerating various characteristics that distinguish 
him from other men. That is, in enumerating your reasons for 
believing the man who is now passing to be the same man as the 
one you saw at churoh, you state explicitly what was previously 
implicit in your thought concerning the matter. The child 
is peering out the window and observes a man opposite the 
house and, after a mere glance, screams with delight: "Oh, 
papa!" The little toddler is engaged in implicit reasoning, 



REASONING. 309 

which if expressed explicitly would probably be after some such 
form as this : 

The man I see coming looks thus and so. 
My papa looks precisely the same. 
Therefore, the man I see coming is my papa. 

You can quite readily see the importance of distinguishing this 
crude, implicit reasoning from what is called in logic formal, or 
explicit, reasoniug. In the latter process, if we reason according 
to rule, the mind seizes hold of a general truth which is made the 
ground of certain conclusions with reference to the particular 
facts under observation at the time. 

There are certain advantages that accrue from following the 
formal mode of procedure. You can readily see that so long as 
the child passes instinctively from one fact to another, and pro- 
ceeds on the ground of similarity alone, his conclusions are apt 
to be more or less uncertain and dubious. Thus the little boy of 
three and one-half years, who was always anxious to explain 
everything, and who, when asked what made his hair curl so tight, 
replied," Why, it's because leat sofa8t,"fellintoerrorbecausehe 
had no acquaintance with certain general principles that would 
have guided him aright in his search for a cause. If one should 
infer that all apples are good for food because one apple is good 
to eat, he may be mistaken. Another example of such false rea- 
soning is the case of the little child, less than four years of age, 
who was seated at the window watching the falling raindrops in 
the passing summer shower. Suddenly she spoke up : "I would 
like to stand out in the rain, mamma, because the rain makes you 
grow bigger." I find in my diary an account of a similar inci- 
dent in the life of my little girl. It occurred when she was four 
years and two months old. She had been denied the privilege of 
going barefoot, the weather being too cold. At night, when be- 
ing put to bed, she asked her mamma, "Does God wear shoesand 
stockings?" and when told that it was pretty hard to find out 
whether he does or not, she spoke up, " Well, if he don't, he must 
have a mighty nice time." Likewise as to the case of the child 



810 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

who thought thunder was caused by God "driving hie chariot 
over bridges." Or another, who thought when it thundered that 
God was "having his coal run in." You cannot pass from one 
fact to another on the ground of similarity or analogy, with any 
degree of assurance that your procedure is correct and authentic, 
or that the results are valid . 

We now come to speak of the two modes of reasoning, the de- 
ductive and the inductive. As already stated, reasoning involves 
a procedure from the known to the unknown. We reason from 
known particular facts, to unknown particular facts. Now, when 
we appeal to a universal proposition to prove our conclusions, the 
reasoning is called deductive; it ia inductive reasoning when we 
reach a general truth or principle by observation, examination, 
and comparison of facts. In induction we proceed from fact 
to fact, until we substantiate some general law. In deduction 
we apply the general truth thus attained (and usually reached by 
the inductive process) to some particular case. The child knows 
that his "kitty died." He observes that birds die, chickens die, 
mosquitoes die, and so after awhile he finds a certain fact to be a 
common characteristic of all animals; then he announces the 
higher general truth that he has reached in the words, "all ani- 
mals die." This is a process of induction. On the other hand, 
we have abundant examples of deductive reason in the appli- 
cations that children make of certain of the more general pro- 
verbial sayings — those that have become common property. The 
following is a case in point : 

"Georgie, what made you go over and play with the Smith 
children when you have mumps and they have not had them ? " 

" Well, didn't the Sunday-school teacher say it's more blessed 
to give than to receive? " 

Or the interesting recorded observation of a child of four, for 
which we are again indebted to Mr. H. W. Brown : 

"R.'s aunt said: 'You are so restless, R., that I cannot hold you 
any longer.' R. replied 'Well, cast your burden on the Lord, 
Auntie, and he will sustain you.' " 

If the child's mind be impressed with the truth that" all animals 



REASONING. 311 

die," and he knows his pet dog is an animal, he concludes that 
his dog must die. In so concluding he reasons by a deductive 
process. 

In inductive reasoning we are simply carrying on the processes 
that lie at the root of all thinking, namely, the detection of simi- 
larity and diversity. In a previous chapter you were told that 
the cultivation of any avenue of sense depends upon the discrim- 
inative ability of that sense; it can also be said that in the same 
way the expansion of the powers of judgment, comparison, rea- 
soning, depends upon the discriminative ability of the mind in 
discerning the relations in which things are similar and dissim- 
ilar to each other. We are ever occupied in tracing out similarities 
in a diversity of things or seeking out differences among things 
that are apparently similar. 

You have already observed that children draw conclusions 
mainly from particular facts, just as some of the higher animals 
do. Thus the boy who planted a three-cent-piece in the ground, 
in the hope that he would soon be rich, "for the money will grow, 
Mamma," implicitly argued that all things tend to grow when 
planted. The inductions of children and the uneducated are fre- 
quently of this type: "Last night as I was going home from 
school, a man passed me with a load of wood drawn by a small 
donkey. There were three or four little boys playing across the 
road. One of them said: 'That's a dunkee.' 'No, it's a horse,' 
said another. 'No, sir! it's a dunkee because its ears go this 
way,' at the same time taking hold of his own ears and wriggling 
them back and forth." * The conclusion of this boy was cer- 
tainly based on a narrow and precarious foundation. But it is 
no worse than the reasoning emploj^ed by the woman who said 
she was glad her husband (a laborer) worked nights because "by 
working nights he saves his lodging; and sleeping in the day 
time he saves his board." And even this specimen is more cred- 
itable than the argument employed by her more wealthy sister 
of the " upper crust," when she insisted that she really had some 
money on deposit at the bank because there were still some blank 

* Reported by H. W. Brown of Worcester Normal School. 



312 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

leaves in her check book. Such pseudo-reasoning must be cor- 
rected by the education that comes with a wider experience. The 
natural impulse to build up general conclusions, so inherent in 
the child's make-up, must be regulated to avoid landing in error. 
Thus the child, who argues that only white cows give white milk, 
and only cold cows give cold milk, soon learns that his conclu- 
sions are hasty and inaccurate. He learns to become more 
cautious. The impulse to include particular facts under general 
truths begins to feel the exercise of a guidance and control so 
much needed. He becomes, from this time on, more methodical 
in his thinking. 

Without any question, the most important of all the truths 
reached by this inductive mode of reasoning is that concerned in 
the search for causes ofevents, phenomena and things. In order to 
bring about any result in practical life or in scientific investiga- 
tion we must know all the regulating conditions and determining 
causes. The chief aim in all human investigations, especiallj^ in 
the realm of scientific study, has ever been to discover the causes 
of related phenomena. This is the stimulus of all research into the 
puzzling and intricate questions that pertain to the physical, men- 
tal, social and ethical worlds in which man is implicated. In the 
oldest records of human speculation, we find that the fathers of 
philosophy — the early Greeks — were assiduously engaged in this 
search for causes. The great problem before the most ancient of 
these philosophers was to find the cause of the world. Thus 
Thales found water to be the cause of all that exists. Water, 
which makes the grass grow, which is necessary to life, which is 
the chief ingredient of the blood, was to Thales the basis of all 
existence. You see that in the childhood of the race as well 
as in this enlightened epoch, men were actuated by the desire to 
find some great principle that would explain the world as then 
known. 

As this was the case in the childhood of the race, so it is 
true of the childhood of every individual, namely, the endeavor 
to find a cause or reason for any occurrence that may have 
been observed by the little eyes, ears, hands, etc. In his 



REASONING. 313 

daily experiences, through the avenues of sensation, the child 
is constantly being made aware of the outside world, and 
the various phenomena which take place within its domain. 
Events and occurrences are constantly being presented to him. 
Day by day these events are revealed to him in relation to 
causes. It does not take the child long to learn that water 
quenches thirst, that fire burns, that food satisfies hunger, and 
that a bruise pains. Neither is the average wide-awake child 
long in discovering that he has power to act, and by acting can 
produce certain results. The little fellow is quick to perceive 
that shaking a rattle-box produces a noise, that a piece of twine 
will break, that with his shovel he can dig in the sand, that with 
plastic clay he can mould innumerable shapes, that by pressing 
the button he can ring the electric bell, etc. A little later in the 
course of his development, prepared and at the same time 
prompted by previous experiences, he begins to perceive that 
things in nature about him are causally related to one another, 
after the same manner that effects he produces are related to 
himself. 

For example, he thus learns that the warm sunshine will melt 
the ice; that overhanging black clouds will produce rain; that 
rain will make the ground wet ; that intense cold will freeze water 
into ice ; that frost ripens the nuts and makes them fall from the 
trees — and so on indefinitely. Now it would be impossible for the 
child to have a fund of such experiences without having it some- 
how suggested to his mind that there is such a thing as "cause." 
He climbs step by step in his scale of observation, examines the 
experiences of all his senses, and finally comes to the conclusion 
that there is no such thing as an uncaused event. This he soon 
adopts as a universal principle go verning all future investigation 
and inquiry. 

Along with these developing experiences, by means of which the 
germ-idea of causation (innate in every individual) is unfolded 
until it has a precise meaning and definite content, accompanying 
this process there is that natural inherent impulse which leads 
him to inquire into the causes of things. It seems that nearly 



314 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

every normal child is a sort of animated interrogation point. 
What question is more frequently asked by the child than "Why?" 
And did you ever see a child who would not make his own infer- 
ences as to the causes of things, if his question " Why" remained 
unanswered ? 

These natural inductions begin at an exceedingly early age 
and the very spontaneity of this impulse accounts for the many 
hasty conclusions which may prove erroneous. The slightest 
analogy between things will frequently lead the child to conclude 
that they have the same cause, when they are really entirely dis- 
parate phenomena so far as causal relations go. The early rea- 
sonings of children are peculiarly interesting and amusing, 
especially in their quest for causes. Mr. Brown's report of re- 
corded cases, compiled at the Worcester Normal School, com- 
prises examples of all shades of this kind of reasoning. Here is 
a contribution made from an observation of a five-year-old child : 
"Jennie said: 'What makes people sleepj^?' Hilda replied: 
' These little hairs on your eyelids. Every time they come against 
your eye they make you sleepy.'" Another good example is 
that of the seven-year-old boy who, when asked whj'^ he liked 
apple pie, replied: "I guess it's because I like the bottom crust, 
and the upper crust, and the apples." What could be more 
realistic than the following conversation of two boys? The 
lawn had been sown to grass, and the little green shoots were 
just visible. 

First boy : " See how the grass grows." 

Second boy : " What makes it grow ? " 

First boy : " God does." 

Second boy : "No, he don't. It's the manure they put on the 
ground." 

I remember of once observing a little three-year-old who was a 
member of a pleasure party rowing on the river. One of the oar- 
locks gave forth an unpleasant squeak, and little Ted was told to 
pour some water on the rusty oar-lock, which he did, putting a 
stop to the unpleasant noise. The next day he saw some guinea 
hens in his uncle's barnyard, and noticing the peculiar noise they 



REASONING. 315 

made, he rushed into the house for his tin cup, because he wanted 
to give the guineas some water "to make their necks stop 
squeaking." 

No better instances of the natural impulse to search for a 
reason for things are to be found than those examples that grow 
out of thoughts about God and his relation to the world. Thus 
six-year-old M. thought rain was caused by God pulling a string, 
just as she did for a shower-bath. 

"God is a big, perhaps blue man, \evj often seen in the sky, 
or in the clouds, in the church, or even street. He came in our 
gate, comes to see us sometimes. He lives in a big palace or in a 
big brick or stone house on the sky. He makes lamps, babies, 
dogs, trees, money, etc., and the angels work for him. He lights 
the stars so he can see to go on the sidewalk or into the church. 
Birds, children, Santa Clans, live with him, and most, but not all, 
like him better than they do the latter. When people die they 
just go, or are put in a hole, or a box or a black wagon that goes 
to heaven, or they fly up or are drawn or slung up into the sky, 
where God catches them. They never get out of the hole, and yet 
all good people somehow get where God is. He lifts them up, 
they go up on a ladder or rope, or they carry them up, but keep 
their eyes shut so they do not know the way, or they are shoved 
up through a hole. When children get there they have candy, 
rocking-horses, and everything in the toy-shop or picture-book ; 
play marbles, top, ball, cards, hookey, hear brass bands, have 
nice clothes, gold watches, and pets, ice cream and soda water, 
and no school. There are men who died in the war made into 
angels, and dolls with broken heads go there. . . . The bad 
place is like an oven or a police-station where it burns, yet is all 
dark, and folks want to get back, and God kills people or beats 
them with a cane. God makes babies in heaven, though the 
holy mother, and even Santa Clans, makes some. He lets them 
down or drops them, and the women or doctors catch them, 
or he leaves them on the sidewalk, or brings them down a wooden 
ladder backwards and pulls it up again, or mamma or the doctor 
or the nurse go up and fetch them sometimes in a balloon, or 



316 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

they fly down and lose oft their wings in some place or other and 
forget it, or jump down to Jesus, who gives them around."* 

That these analogies, which lie at the basis of much of our 
reasoning, are detected quite early, is illustrated in the case of 
the child one year and eight months old, a little girl, who had a 
doll whose hair had all come off. After visiting her grandpa 
(who happened to be bald-headed), she named her doll 
"Grandpa." 

We all know that careful research with a view to the discovery 
of causes is apt to be a very tedious process. It always implies 
a painstaking, systematic method of procedure, as is evidenced 
by all forms of worthy scientific investigation. 

There are, generally speaking, two ways in which we, as well 
as men of science, gain knowledge of the world about us. The 
first way, as Jevons so aptly puts it, is merely to observe what 
happens without any interference on our part. We notice the rise 
and fall of the tide as we stroll along the beach. If we become 
sufficiently interested, we can set down on paper the times at 
which the tide is highest on several days in succession ; we shall 
learn that high tide occurs about three-quarters of an hour later 
on each day than on the previous day. If we notice the heights 
of the tides still more closely, we observe that they are greatest 
at the time of the new and full moon. In such phenomena as 
these we cannot in any way interfere, govern or regulate the 
things we observe. 

The changes of the weather, the occurrence of storms, earth- 
quakes, meteoric showers, volcanoes, the rotation of the earth, 
the revolution of the planets, and the like, are all things that are 
beyond our interference and control. In our investigations into 
such things, we are able to employ only simple observation. 

But there is possible a condition of things in which we can, in 
a measure, manage the circumstances; that is, we can wake ex- 
periments. This means that, whenever possible, we should put 



♦Selected from G. Stanley Hall's paraphrase of children's actual sayings, ex- 
pressive of some of their crude reasonings. See " The Pedagogical Seminary," 
June, 1891. 



REASONING. 317 

together things, of which we wish to learn the nature and their 
manner of behavior under different circumstances, in such a way 
as to exhibit what the action will be under certain known cir- 
cumstances. In experiment we interfere with things by interpos- 
ing new conditions; we then observe the results. Experiment- 
ation is observation plus something else, namely, the regulation 
and control of things whose nature and behavior we are seeking 
to observe. 

Experiment possesses, as you . can readily see, considerable 
advantage over mere observation, especially in scientific research. 
The knowledge we gain by experiment is more accurate because 
we know more clearly and definitely the exact cause of the phe- 
nomena with which we are dealing, than we do in the simple ob- 
servation of natural events. The causes of the events in the experi- 
ments we conduct, are determined by our own will in regard to 
the matter and we can know them more certainly; while, on the 
other hand, in the mere observation of occurrences taking place 
in nature and beyond our control, we cannot be at all certain that 
such and such an effect is produced by such and such a cause. 

Furthermore, in experimentation, when we control the course 
of events, we are enabled to discover entirely new substances and 
to learn their properties. We vary the conditions and find that 
certain modifications are brought about by such variation. You 
can illustrate the point for yourself by carrying on some of the 
simplest of the ordinary experiments in physics or chemistry, 
put down in our text books. 

There are at least four different steps or stadia in all indicative 
reasoning. These are : 

First sf^ep.— Preliminary observation. 

Second step.— The making of hypotheses. 

Third step.— Deductive reasoning. 

Fourth step.— Verification. 

The knowledge gained by the first step is such as comes 
through the senses in simple observation. In taking the second 
step, we proceed to reason about these facts and make a scien- 
tific guess [hypothesis] concerning their probable cause. In the 



318 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

third step, we are merely occupied in reflecting upon what par- 
ticular facts (at yet unobserved), will be true if our hypothesis 
should prove, by subsequent investigation, to be true. In the 
fourth and final stage of procedure, we seek to determine 
whether our hypothesis can be verified by reference to actual 
occurrences in the world about us, or at least within the domain 
to which the class of phenomena we are investigating belongs. 
Jevons illustrates this well by reference to the method of pro- 
cedure followed in establishing the Law of Gravitation. 

" Probably the most important law of nature ever discovered 
is that called the Law of Gravity, which states that all bodies in 
space tend to fall towards each other, with a certain force depend- 
ing upon the magnitudes of the bodies and the distance between 
them. It might seem that we need no aid of logic to show us 
that things fall towards the earth, because, whether we throw up 
a stone or a book, a gold coin or a feather, they will all descend 
more or less quickly to the surface of the earth. The ancient 
Greeks observed this much, and no doubt the ancient Egyptians 
and other peoples before them. But then it does not seem to be 
true that all bodies fall; for flames ascend upwards, and in smoke, 
and clouds, and bubbles we have other exceptions. Aristotle, the 
greatest of Greek philosophers, came to the conclusion that some 
things were naturally heavy and tended to fall, while other things 
were naturally light, and tended to rise. Only about two hundred 
years ago did Newton succeed in showing how much better it was 
to make the hypothesis that all things tend to fall, because he 
could then explain not only the motions of flame and other ap- 
parently light things, but also the movements of the moon, sun 
and planets. If we put a pound weight into one scale of a bal- 
ance, and only half a pound into the other scale, the latter will 
of course go up as the former is pulled down by the greater force. 
So, if flame be a lighter substance than the air around, it will be 
forced or buoyed up like a cork in water. Thus, when we argue 
deductively, we find that what is apparently tending to rise up- 
wards may really be tending to fall downwards, but is over- 
powered by the greater tendency of other bodies. 



REAS02\ING. 319 

" Newton argued again in this way : If all bodies tend to fall 
towards each other, all bodies ought to fall towards the earth. 
Now the moon is a body, and therefore it ought, according to 
evident reasoning in the manner of the syllogism, to fall towards 
the earth. Why does it not do so, instead of revolving round the 
earth once in every lunar month? It occurred to him that, if the 
moon were not in some way held by the earth, it ought to go off 
flying away in a straight line, like a stone from a rapidly revolv- 
ing sling. A moving body will move in a straight line unless 
some force obliges it to alter its course. Thus it appeared likely 
that in reality the moon was always falling towards the earth, 
and that it was this constant falling which prevented it from 
moving off in a straight line. Newton then proceeded to prove 
by most ingenious mathematical reasoning that the force of 
gravity, if it were such as he supposed it to be, would keepi the 
moon constantlymoving round the earth. He also showed that, 
if his hypothesis of gravity were true, the planets would move 
round the sun as they do. He went on to explain a great many 
peculiarities in the motions of the planets and their satellites. 
He showed that even comets, though they come and go in so ap- 
parently irregular a manner, really move in long orbits, as gravity 
would make them move. The tides, too, are another peculiar 
effect of the same force. Thus his law became a vended hypothe- 
sis, one so entirely agreeing with facts that we cannot but believe 
it to be correct. It becomes an established law of nature, and 
is sometimes called a theory; but this last word, theory, is 
used with several different meanings, and we should take 
care not to be misled by it. Here it means only a well-verified 
hypothesis." 

It ought to be easy to see that deductive reasoning alone will 
never teach us anything new, because it only gives us one propo- 
sition, when we already have others from which this one is de- 
rived. How then are we to get the original propositions ? This 
must be done by using our eyes, ears, and other sense organs and 
observing things about us, so as to learn what they really are. 
This seems to be evidently the proper way to get knowledge, and' 



320 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

we may well wonder that people ever thought differently. Never- 
theless, for many centuries it was believed to be possible to arrive 
at all necessary knowledge by the use of the syllogism, and men 
preferred trusting to Aristotle, rather than using their own eyes. 
It used to be said that God made men two-legged, and Aristotle 
made them rational. 

The riseof modern science may, perhaps, " beconsidered to date 
as far back as the time of Roger Bacon, the wonderful monk and 
philosopher of Oxford, who lived between theyears 1214 and 1292. 
He was probably the first in the middle ages to assert that w^e 
must learn science by observing and experimenting on the things 
around us, and he himself made many remarkable discoveries. 
Galileo, however, who lived more than 300 years later (1564 to 
1642), was the greatest of several great men, who in Italy, France, 
Germany, or England, began by degrees to show how many im- 
portant truths could be discovered by well-directed observation. 
Before the time of Galileo, learned men believed that large bodies 
fell more rapidly towards the earth than small ones, because Aris- 
totle said so. But Galileo, going to the top of the Leaning 
Tower of Pisa, let fall two unequal stones, and proved to some 
friends, whom he had brought there to see his experiment, that 
Aristotle was in error." It is Galileo's spirit of going direct to 
nature, and verifying our opinions and theories by experiment, 
that has led to all the great discoveries of modern science. And 
this is the spirit that should be inculcated into the students of 
to-day. Some so-called scientists must have the particular object 
they are called upon to examine, soaked in paraffine, sliced with 
a microtome and boiled in corrosive sublimate, before they exam- 
ine it. What is actually needed is a band of men who are thor- 
oughly enthusiastic as scientists, and eager to roam over fields 
and through the woods to study objects and organisms in their 
natural setting and environment. 

By such inductive methods as those already instanced, the 
child certainly reaches a large amount of general knowledge. 
This knowledge embraces the results of his observation of things ; 
the causes of certain events in nature ; just what his own and 



REASONING. 321 

other human actions can accomplish, and of analogies and dis- 
similarities. As in all other lines of progress, he is exceedingly 
dependent upon his elders, his parents and teachers, who givehim 
instruction, and sometimes he goes so far as to derive all of his 
general knowledge, at least in the initial stages, from what others 
tell him. 

Now, when the child has gotten together a fund of general 
knowledge, whether gained by his own observation, or from in- 
struction by others makes no great difference, he is ready to pass 
on to the second stage of explicit reasoning, known as deduction. 
You remember that by induction is meant the process of reason- 
ing upward from particular facts to a general truth or principle. 
Now, deduction, on the other hand, is the process of reasoning 
downward from a general truth to some particular concrete case. 
Thus a child whose mind has been fed on some of the "goody- 
goody " books which tell him of scores of boys who were drowned 
by going boating on Sunday, or of a number who had their arms 
broken while stealing apples, is liable to regard it as a general 
rule that all boys who go boating on Sunday will be drowned, or 
that all boys who steal apples will have an arm broken. These 
general principles he reaches by a process of induction. When 
he comes to apply this general principle to himself, and says, "If 
I go boating on Sunday, I shall be drowned," he makes use of 
deductive reasoning. He notices that his dog suffers pain, and i.s 
told that all animals suffer pain, so he concludes, as a result of 
deduction from this general statement, that the cow, horse, or 
sheep suffers pain. The form of deductive reasoning, when fully 
expressed— when made explicit in terms of language— furnishes 
us what is known in logic as the syllogism. Thus : 

All animals die. 

My dog " Jip " is an animal. 

Therefore my dog "Jip " will die. 

This is called an aflBrmative syllogism, because its propo- 
sitions are affirmative judgments leading to an affirmative con- 
clusion. 

L. p.— 21 



322 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

As an example of a negative sjllogism we have : 

No horse eats meat. 
" Prince" is a horse. 
Therefore, " Prince" does not eat meat. 

For here we reach a negative conclusion. The essential pro- 
cess here, in both syllogisms, as in induction, is detecting simi- 
larity or analogy. We bring the particular case of the dog 
"Jip" under the general rule or principle that "animals die," 
and we do this because we detect similarity and identity between 
"Jip" and other animals, for the particular case must obey the 
behests of reason and come under the general rule. The same 
holds good in the negative syllogism. We bring the particular 
case of the horse "Prince" under the general rule "No horse 
eats meat," because we know that " Prince" is like other horses, 
or better, is identical with other horses in his main characteris- 
tics. He must be like other horses in respect to certain of the 
more important attributes, in order to be a horse. 

Now, the detection of similarity, analogy and identity is the 
essential process in deductive reasoning, as it is in the inductive 
form. Yet it must also be remembered that discrimination plays 
an important part. Especially in those arguments where we 
reach negative conclusions, are we engaged in this work of dis- 
criminating among the various marks, characteristics and quali- 
ties that are presented. Thus when I argue : 

Only sound horses can run fast. 
This horse is lame (or unsound). 
Therefore, this horse cannot run fast, 

I am making use of certain powers of discrimination in separ- 
ating a particular horse from a general class of horses. 

The process of deduction may lead to a vahd or invalid con- 
clusion; that the conclusion may be valid the processes of deduc- 
tion must be regulated. It is the business of formal logic to 
point out the requirements that must be satisfied in order to 
have perfectly valid reasoning. 



REASONING. 323 

Errors and mistakes in reasoning are called fallacies, that is, 
modes of reasoning which deceive. But we ought not to confuse 
a false opinion with the bad reasoning by which it is reached. 
The word fallacy is, in fact, an ambiguous one. In one sense it is 
a fallacy to say that the moon governs the weather, because long 
and careful inquiries have shown that there is no correspondence 
between the changes of the moon and the changes of the weather. 
But this is a fallacious or false opinion; the logical fallacy con- 
sists in the bad reasoning which has by degrees led people to be- 
lieve in the moon's power. On one or two occasions a person 
may notice a change of weather on the day of new moon, and 
he thinks it so singular that he tells his neighbors of the fact, and 
they remember perhaps to have noticed the same thing once or 
twice. But it is bad reasoning to argue that, because on a few 
occasions things happen one after the other, therefore the one is 
the cause of the other. 

But before indicating the usual sources of fallacious reasoning, 
it might be well to call attention to the fact that in ordinary 
practical reasoning the processes are seldom formally expressed 
in the language of full and complete syllogisms. Indeed, there 
are exceedingly few persons who can detect the syllogistic pro- 
cess in their ordinary chains of reasoning. Locke's estimate of 
the practical utility of the syllogism is well worth quoting here. 
It is selected from his famous "Essay on the Human Under- 
standing." 

" Of what use, then, are syllogisms ? I answer, their main and 
chief use is in the schools, where men are allowed without shame 
to deny the agreement of ideas that do manifestly agree; or out 
of the schools, to those who from hence have learned without 
shame to deny the connection of ideas, which even to themselves 
is visible. But to an ingenuous searcher after truth, who has no 
other aim but to find it, there is no need of any such form to 
force the allowing of the inference; the truth and reasonableness 
of it is better seen in ranging of the ideas in a simple and plain 
order; and hence it is that men, in their own inquiries after truth, 
never use syllogisms to convince themselves (or in teaching 



324 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

others to instruct willing learners). . . . But if men skilled 
in and used to syllogisms, find them assisting to their reason in 
the discovery of truth, I think they ought to make use of them. 
All that I aim at, is, that they should not ascribe more to these 
forms than belongs to them, and think that men have no use, 
or not so full a use, of their reasoning faculties without them. 
Some eyes want spectacles to see things clearly and distinctly; 
but let not those that use them therefore say nobody can see 
clearly without them; those who do so will bethought in favor of 
art (which, perhaps, they are beholden to), a little too much to 
depress and discredit nature. Reason, by its own penetration, 
where it is strong and exercised, usually sees quicker and clearer 
without the syllogism. If use of those spectacles has so dimmed 
its sight, that it cannot without them see consequences or incon- 
sequences in argumentation, I am not so unreasonable as to be 
against the using them. Every one knows what bests fits his 
own sight; but let him not thence conclude all in the dark, who 
use not just the same helps that he finds a need of." 

Without going into the minute details of logical fallacy, we 
may Indicate certain general causes of defective reasoning and 
erroneous deduction. We have emphasized the fact that reason- 
ing consists chiefly in a detection of similarity and identity. If 
this is true, then it is not difficult to see that the great source of 
invalid deduction lies in a sort of mental confusion in which 
things that are actually similar are not so regarded, while those 
that are essentially unlike are conceived to be similar — there is 
a lack of discriminative ability. The erroneous reasoner does 
not see where similarity leaves off and difference begins. Chil- 
dren are extremely liable to this error, because their intense 
eagerness to find a reason for a fact, a cause or explanation for 
an event, may precipitate them at once into such an intellectual 
confusion that loose reasoning cannot fail to result. 

Perhaps the most common sort of error in deductive argument 
is the ambiguity of terms, for in such a case the mind fails to 
detect the various shades of meaning that can belong to the same 
word. Thus: 



REASONING. 325 

No designing person ought to be trusted. 

The architect is a designer. 

Therefore architects ought not be trusted. 

In this bald case it is easy enough to detect the source of the 
fallacy. But there are instances where the ambiguity is more 
subtle, and requires a keener logical insight for its detection. The 
reasoner must always be on the alert for the ambiguous use of 
terms, and no source of confusion is more fruitful of error than 
the simplest words and language that are ambiguous in their 
meaning. 

A word with two distinct meanings is really two words. If a 
person were to argue that his ailment is a cold, and that all cold 
is dispelled by heat, it would be absurd thus to confuse together 
a cold or catarrh with the absence of heat. But in many cases it 
is by no means easy to see that we are using the same word with 
two meanings. 

Take such common words as chair, bill, table, paper and ball, 
and seek out the many different meanings that can be assigned 
to each one. If you do this carefully you will quite readily see 
how it is that ambiguity can easily become a source of error in 
reasoning. To take the old illustrations of Jevons : 

" Changes of the meaning of words are usually effected by no 
particular person and with no distinct purpose, but by a sort of 
unconscious instinct in a number of persons using the name. In 
the language of science, however, changes are often made pur- 
posely, and with a clear apprehension of the generalization im- 
plied. Thus soap in ordinary life is applied only to a compound 
of soda or potash with fat, but chemists have purposely extended 
the name so as to include any compound of a metallic salt with 
a fatty substance. Accordingly there are such things as lime- 
soap and lead-soap, which latter is employed in making common 
diachylon plaster. (He might have added to this list '< soap " as 
used by the political heeler.) Alcohol at first denoted the product 
of ordinary fermentation commonly called spirits of wine, but 
chemists having discovered that many other substances had a 
theoretical composition closely resembling spirits of wine, the 



326 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

name was adopted for the whole class, and a long enumeration 
of different kinds of alcohol will be found in Dr. Roscoe's "Les- 
sons on Chemistry." The number of known alcohols is likewise 
subject to indefinite increase by the progress of discovery. Every 
one of the chemical terms, acid, alkali, metal, alloy, earth, ether, 
oil, gas, salt, may be shown to have undergone great generali- 
zations. 

" In other sciences there is hardly a less supply of instances. 
A lens originally meant a lenticular-shaped or double convex 
piece of glass, that being the kind of glass most frequently used 
by opticians. But as glasses of other shapes came to be used 
along with lenses, the name was extended to concave or even to 
perfectly flat pieces of glass. The words lever, plane, cone, cylin- 
der, arc, conic section, curve, prism, magnet, pendulum, ray, light, 
and many others, have been similarly generalized. 

"In common language we may observe that even proper or 
singular names are often generalized, as when in the time of Cicero 
a good actor was called a Roscius, after an actor of pre-eminent 
talent. The name Caesar was adopted by the successor of Julius 
Ceesar as an official name of the emperor, with which it grad- 
ually became synonymous, so that in the present day the kaisers 
of Germany and Austria and the czars of Russia, both take their 
title from Caesar. The celebrated tower built by the king of 
Egypt on the island of Pharos, at the entrance of the harbor of 
Alexandria, has caused lighthouses to be called phares in French, 
and pharos in obsolete English. From the celebrated Roman 
general, Quintus Fabius Maxinius, any one who avoids bringing 
a contest to a crisis is said to pursue a Fabian policy. 

" The word foot has suffered several curious but very evident 
transfers of meaning. Originally it denoted the foot of a man 
or an animal, and is probably connected in a remote manner with 
the Latin pes, pedis; but since the length of the foot is naturally 
employed as a rude measure of length, it came to be applied to a 
fixed measure of length; and as the foot is at the bottom of the 
body, the name was extended by analogy to the foot of a moun- 
tain, or the foot of a table; by a further extension, any position, 



REASONING. 327 

plan, reason, or argument on which we place ourselves and rely, 
is called the foot or footing. The same word also denotes sol- 
diers who fight on their feet, or infantry, and the measured part 
of a verse having a definite length. That these very different 
meanings are naturally connected with the original meaning is 
evident from the fact that the Latin and Greek words for foot are 
subject to exactly similar series of ambiguities. 

" It would be a long task to trace out completely the various 
and often contradictory meanings of the word fellow. Originally 
a fellow was what follows another, that is, a companion ; thus it 
came to mean the other of a pair, as one shoe is the fellow of the 
other, or simply an equal, as when we say that Shakespeare ' hath 
not a fellow.' From the simple meaning of companion, again it 
comes to denote vaguely a person, as in the question, * What fel- 
low is that ? ' but then there is a curious confusion of deprecia- 
tory and endearing power in the word ; when a man is called a 
mere fellow, or simply a fellow in a particular tone of voice, the 
name is one of severe contempt ; alter the tone of the voice of the 
connected words in the least degree, and it becomes one of the 
most sweet and endearing appellations, as when we speak of a 
dear or good fellow. We may still add the technical meanings of 
the name, as applied in the case of a Fellow of a college or of a 
learned society. 

"Another good instance of the growth of a number of different 
meanings from a single root is found in the word post. Originally 
a post was something posited, or placed firmly in the ground, 
such as an upright piece of wood or stone ; such meaning still re- 
mains in the cases of a lamp-post, a gate-post, signal-post, etc. 
As a post would often be used to mark a fixed spot of ground (e.g., 
a mile-post), it came to mean the fixed or appointed place where 
the post was placed, as in a military post, the post of danger, the 
post of honor, etc. The fixed places where horses were kept in 
readiness to facilitate rapid traveling, as in the times of the 
Roman empire, were thus called posts, and thence the whole sys- 
tem of arrangement for the conveyance of persons or news came 
to be called the posts. The name has retained an exactly similar 



328 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

meaning to the present day in most parts of Europe, and we still 
use it in post-chaise, post-boy, post-horse, and postilion. A sys- 
tem of post conveyance for letters having been organized for about 
two centuries in England and other countries, this is perhaps the 
meaning most closely associated with the word post at present, and 
a number of expressions have arisen, such as post oflSce, postage, 
postal guide, postman, postmaster, postal telegraph, etc. Curi- 
ously enough, we now have iron letter-posts, in which the word 
post is restored exactly to its original meaning." 

That misuse of words is the great cause of error in our think- 
ing, was well expressed by Locke over two hundred years ago : 

"For he that shall well consider the errors and obscurity, the 
mistakes and confusion that are spread in the world by an ill use 
of words, will find some reason to doubt whether language, as it 
has been employed, has contributed more to the improvement or 
hindrance of knowledge amongst mankind. How many are there, 
that, when they would think on things, fix their thoughts only 
on words, especially when they would apply their minds to moral 
matters; and who, then, can wonder if the result of such contem- 
plations and reasonings about little more than sounds, whilst 
the ideas they annex to them, are very confused and unsteady, or 
perhaps none at all — who can wonder, I say, that such thoughts 
and reasonings end in nothing but obscurity and mistake, with- 
out any clear judgment or knowledge? " 

It is an easy matter, then, to perceive the necessity of regulat- 
ing the reasoning power in its procedure from the known to the 
unknown, its search after explanations and sufficient reasons for 
all that occurs and exists. This regulation of the processes of 
reasoning must come chiefly under the guidance and stimulation 
of others. The function of the teacher in this connection is an 
exceedingly important one, yet an extremely difficult one to 
serve. 

In the earliest stages of the child's development, parents are 
called upon to answer many questions prompted by the child's 
curiosity and desire for explanation. Do parents and teachers 
realize what a momentous period this is for the child ? Children 



REASONING. 329 

are so capricious in their questionings that we are apt to think 
their inquiries, as to the why and how of things, are made from 
force of habit, or are put in a half-raechanical sort of way with- 
out any real desire for information. There is no saying more 
true than the one to the effect that children and fools can ask 
questions which wise men cannot answer. But it is erroneous to 
think that children's questions are purposeless, or put for the 
mere sake of teasing parents or teacher, though this may some- 
times seem to be the case. Once when my vacation was drawing 
to a close, a little fellow of four observed me packing my valise 
as I was preparing for the journey back to college, and the 
following conversation took place: 

Question. " What are you packing your valise for? " 

Answer. " Because I am going away." 

Q. "What are you going away for ? " 

A. " Oh, to get to work." 

Q. "Well, what do jou want to get to work for? " 

u\. "To earn money." 

Q. " Well, what do you want to earn money for ? " 

A. "To get through the world." 

Q. " What do you want to get through the world for? " 

Under such circumstances it is rather hai*d to follow Locke's 
advice when he says : 

"Encourage the child's inquisitiveness all you can by satisfy- 
ing his demands and informing his judgment as far as possible." 
Yet all of us, in spite of some tantalizing and trying experiences, 
believe that a good rule to follow is to give an explanation when- 
ever the nature of the subject will permit such an explanation in 
simple, clear and lucid form. And when we come to think of 
children as capricious in their questioning and are overwrought 
by the tantalizing and irrepressible "Why," letus remember that 
their horizon is exceedingly limited, so limited that they are con- 
stantly chafing on account of it. Furthermore, we must remem- 
ber that one of the chief ways of extending this horizon is to 
furnish the child information in response to his eager, impulsive 
and instinctive " Why." 



880 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOOT, 

And again, we all know that the child demands, and naturally 
and rightfully too, the intellectual sympathy of his elders. It is 
only in manhood, when there are no longer teachers at hand, that 
the observations and inferences required for early guidance are 
expected to be made without assistance. In the constant but 
none the less sincere "Why" of the child, nature is perpetually 
thrusting the true method of education upon us. 

However, a word of caution is not entirely out of place. We 
must be careful not to indulge children too much in the way of 
questioning — that is, we should be careful to avoid promotinga 
sort of intellectual laziness, and at the same time avoid making 
them entirely dependent upon others. It is, as we have previously 
stated, far better to show a child the route which leads to the cor- 
rect answer of his question, than to tell him the answer outright, 
if the route be not a complicated one, and the desired destina- 
tion not removed too great a distance from the child's present 
point of view. As Herbert Spencer has said: "To tell a child 
this or that, is not to teach him how to observe, but simply to 
make him the recipient of another's observations ... de- 
priving him of the pleasures that result from successful activity." 

But early training of the reasoning powers involves much more 
than the mere answering of the simple, spontaneous questions of 
children. Not only may the child question you, but you must 
question the child as to the reasons of things, and the causes of 
what he sees happening in the world about him. A question sets 
the child to observe more closely, and each new item gained by 
observation is so much new food for reflection. So by your 
query as to the cause of a certain phenomenon, you stimulate 
his reasoning powers by raising new problems within his mind. 
I think the most interesting lesson I ever received with reference 
to the different densities of the various liquids grew out of a 
thoughtful teacher's question. It was this, "Why does beer 
foam and wine spari/e ? " 

Furthermore, do you not see that by asking the why of things 
you are continually impressing upon the mind of the child the 
principle that every event, every occurrence, has its cause and 



REASONING. 331 

its explanation. As parent or teacher it is your privilege, yes, your 
duty, to fix a habit of inquiry in the child's mind, by continually 
calling his attention to certain phenomena as they take place, 
and encouraging* him to find out the causes, in so far as is possi- 
ble, by appeal to his own mental capital and powers of observa- 
tion. Don't raise queries that have no touch or point of inti- 
mate contact with his every-day experiences. You know all that 
is meant by the phrase " to explain" is the bringing of some un- 
known fact or effect under some known class of experiences. 
Children tend to do this continually. They are ever going back 
to their past experiences in their quest for analogies that apply 
to the case under consideration. This is especially seen in the 
names children give to new objects. 

My own little girl (five years old) has insisted upon calling the 
midvein of a leaf its " spinal cord," ever since I showed her the 
spinal cord of a cat [in situ) when she was in my laboratory six 
months or more ago. Certain savages are said to have called 
horses big dogs, on seeing them for the first time, because they 
were more like dogs than anything they had ever seen. 

By systematic training, then, and systematic training only, 
can the reasoning powers be developed in a proper manner, and 
the mind of the child prevented from falling into such fallacious 
reasoning as was instanced earlier in the chapter. Do your best 
to prevent too hasty inductions on the part of the child ; do not 
permit him to take certain accidental features as essential char- 
acteristics of an object. For example, do not let him insist that 
all apples are red because the one he is now eating happens to 
be of that color — make it perfectly plain to him that the color 
of the apple is purely an accidental feature and not an essential 
characteristic. 

For the main source of error in inductive reasoning (and most 
of our reasoning belongs to this class), lies in the fact that we 
make our inductions too hastily. And in deductive reasoning, 
make it plain to the young mind just what cases do come under 
the general rule he has discovered, and what cases do not. 

But now comes the most important question of all that have 



3r32 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

been raised and discussed in this chapter. What subjects or 
studies best exercise the pupil's reasoning powers? You cannot 
assign young children, or even high school pupils, lessons in 
formal logic. And even if the child could comprehend the full 
import of all the rules of logic that have been devised since the 
time of Aristotle, he would not of necessity be a good reasoner, 
any more than the person who reads the best book on athletic 
training could develop his muscles while simply languishing in a 
"Sleepy Hollow" chair. To learn even to "skin the cat," one 
must engage in physical exercise; he must also indulge in a set 
of routine exercises to develop his arms different from the one 
employed to develop his chest. So in mental training. The pow- 
ers of mind are developed through exercise. Now the question 
is: What special routine of study is it best to employ, in order 
to so exercise the mind of the child that its reasoning powers will 
be best furthered in their path of development ? 

The mother and kindergarten teacher can do much in influencing 
the direction of the child's questionings, thus training his reason- 
ing powers. But the continued education of this reasoning fac- 
ulty is the problem of the teacher in the common school. Of course 
all studies, in the hands of the skillful, keen, wide-awake teacher, 
will be made to contribute something toward bringing about this 
rational development. Yet there are subjects, the study of which 
is especially suited to stimulate the reasoning faculty, and guide 
it into the best possible manifestations of its activity. 

One of the best studies for this purpose is physical geography. 
In the study of physical geography the child comes into actual 
contact with natural phenomena; and for countless reasons the 
study of physical geography ought come before the study of 
political or descriptive geography. In the study of physical 
geography, the child exercises his mind in reasoning about the 
causes of natural phenomena. Better acquaint the child with 
the real explanation of the hillside spring, that bubbles forth 
from the ground, or inform him as to the principle that underlies 
the existence of the artesian well, or let him know the causes of 
earthquakes — much better and much more natural is this food 



REASONING. 333 

for the child'8 mind (because more easily assimilated), than all 
you can cram into him concerning monarchy, duchy, republic, 
dukedom, boundary lines, and the like. 

If history be well taught, it will also be a mighty lever in rais- 
ing the child in the scale of knowledge and in developing his 
powers of reasoning. 

For historical study, properly conducted, develops the child's 
power of tracing analogies, of reasoning as to the causes and 
effects of human action, and deducing certain general principles 
that govern men in their national life. But sad to say, most 
history is poorly taught. We regret that what Mr. Spencer says 
with regard to the worthlessness of ordinary history is so true. 
We here reproduce what he says, in the hope that it will help some 
of us to modify our courses in history accordingly: 

" But, as already more than once hinted, the historic informa- 
tion commonly given is almost valueless for purposes of guidance. 
Scarcely any of the facts set down in our school histories, and 
very few even of those contained in the more elaborate works 
written for adults, give any clue to the right principles of political 
action. The biographies of monarchs (and our children com- 
monly learn little else) throw scarcely any light upon the science 
of society. Familiarity with court intrigues, plots, usurpations, 
or the like, and with all the personalities accompanying them, 
aids very little in elucidating the principles upon which national 
welfare depends. We read of some squabble for power, that it 
led to a pitched battle ; that such and such were the names of the 
generals and their leading subordinates ; that they each had so 
many thousand infantry and cavalry, and so many cannon; that 
they arranged their forces in this or that order; that they ma- 
neuvered, attacked, and fell back in certain ways; that at this 
part of the day such disasters were sustained, and at that, such 
advantages gained; that in one particular moment some leading 
oflBcer fell, while in another a certain regiment was decimated ; 
that after all the changing fortunes of the fight, the victory was 
gained by this or that army, and that so many were killed and 
wounded on each side, and so many captured by the conquerors. 



334 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

. . . That which constitutes history, properly so called, is in 
great part omitted from works on the subject. Only of late years 
have historians commenced giving us, in any considerable quan- 
tity, the truly valuable information. As in past ages the king was 
everything and the people nothing, so in past histories the do- 
ings of the king fill the entire picture, to which the national life 
forms but an obscure background. While only now, when the 
welfare of nations rather than of rulers is becoming the domi- 
nant idea, are historians beginning to occupy themselves with 
the phenomena of social progress. That which it really concerns 
us to know, is the natural history of society." 

But above and beyond all other subjects in real value as an 
agency to promote the development and correct activity of the 
reasoning powers, there is nothing like the study of the natural 
sciences, be it botany, zoology, geology, physiology or what. 
Any natural science study serves to stimulate the reasoning pow- 
ers into exercise, at the same time developing and strengthening 
them, and, what is still better, guiding them into correct modes 
of activity. Science is " knowledge systematized," and a study 
of science tends to make one more systematic and correct in his 
thinking. Science is knowledge in its most precise form of ex- 
pression, and students of science strive harder and harder to 
make their thinking more precise that their conclusions may also 
be more exact. Each of the sciences sets out with observation 
and experiment, by means of which it hopes to establish certain 
general principles that hold true within the domain of that par- 
ticular science. Then it proceeds to seek out all the phenomena 
and occurrences that come under the scope of this general princi- 
ple and applies these established principles to all the particular 
facts deductively. Science trains the reasoning powers into an 
orderly, systematic and precise manner of activity. The boy who 
comes to school with a garter-snake in his pocket (even if he 
bring it to frighten the girls), the one who gathers specimens of 
butterflies, bugs and beetles, the one who tears his clothes in 
climbing trees for birds ' nests, or the one who wears out the linings 
of his pockets with a collection of arrowheads he has found—any 



REASONING. 885 

and all of these boys are a long distance ahead of the boy who is 
compelled to bound Australia, or extract the square root of the 
largest series of numbers ever put between the covers of an arith- 
metic. 

Science lessons can be given in a most interesting manner. 
For the first lessons nothing better is needed, as a guide on which 
they may base their own observations, than a good edition of 
'< Robinson Crusoe." In this interesting tale the child learns of a 
man's struggles with the elements and forces of nature. The 
child is thus brought face to face with nature in the interesting 
story of the life of this one man. The methods this hermit em- 
ployed to protect himself from nature's forces, the means used 
by him to prepare his food, can and will becompared by the child 
himself with his own experiences and environment. The habita- 
tion of Crusoe will be compared with his own home; the crude 
cooking utensils of the hermit are compared with those which the 
child's own mother makes use of in the family kitchen; the 
clothing of Crusoe is compared with the child's own or that of his 
father. What better model of inductive reasoning can the child 
follow than that employed by this lonely hermit when he discov- 
ers the track on the shore sands of his island home? By taking 
up this interesting tale you touch the child's life on every side; 
you acquaint him with some of the greatest truths of modern 
science, and you at the same time stimulate his powers of reason- 
ing to exercise themselves in the most precise and methodical 
way, and in a manner to strengthen and develop them most fully 
and satisfactorily. The natural sciences ^'provide the best train- 
ing of the mind in the patient, accurate investigation of facts, 
and the cautious building up of general truths, on the Srm basis 
of actual observation." 

With reference to deductive reasoning, it is most probably 
true, that geometry contributes the most in the way of develop- 
ment of one's latent reasoning power. At least the kind of 
geometry Professor Wyse insists upon, would accomplish much 
in this direction. Here is his own statement : 

"A child has been in the habit of using cubes for arithmetic; 



336 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCROLOOY. 

let him also use them for the elements of geometry. I would 
begin with solids, the reverse of the usual plan. It saves all 
the diflSculty of absurd definitions, and bad explanations on 
points, lines and surfaces, which are nothing but abstractions. 
... A cube presents many of the principal elements of geome- 
try; it at once exhibits points, straight lines, parallel lines, 
angles, parallelograms, etc. These cubes are divisible into vari- 
ous parts. The pupil has already been familiarized with such 
divisions in numeration, and he now proceeds to a comparison 
of their several parts, and of the relation of these parts to each 
other. . . . From thence he advances to globes, which fur- 
nish him with elementary notions of the circle, and of curves 
generally. 

"Being tolerably familiar with solids, he may substitute 
planes. The transition may be made very easy. Let the cube, 
for instance, be cut into thin divisions, and placed on paper; he 
will then see as many plane rectangles as he has divisions; so 
with all the others. Globes may be treated in the same manner; 
he will thus see how surfaces really are generated, and be en- 
abled to abstract them with facility in every solid. 

"He has thus acquired the alphabet and reading of geometry. 
He now proceeds to write it. The simplest operation, and there- 
fore the first, is merely to place these planes on a piece of paper, 
and pass a pencil around them. When this has been frequently 
done, the plane may be put at a little distance, and the child 
required to copy it, and so on." 

Passing from this empirical geometry to the Euclidean, as 
set forth in the average text-book on that subject, we find that 
the process of demonstration here employed, which shows how 
certain conclusions necessarily follow from certain established 
principles, is an exercise of the logical faculty that is of peculiar 
and inestimable value. To that process of reasoning which leads 
the pupil gradually and understandingly from the statement of 
a theorem through the various meshes and shades of argument 
till the " Q. E. D." is reached, must be awarded the palm for the 
best discipline of the powers of deductive reasoning. 



LESSON XXIIl. 

DEVELOPMENT OF THE WILL. 

No subject in connection with child-study is more difficult 
to treat than that which is ordinarily indicated by the term voli- 
tion. Neither can you find a subject more important, for the 
true understanding of the evolution of the will power is neces- 
sary in order to become at all thoroughly acquainted with the 
more purely intellectual and moral ideas. 

Activity is a fundamental property of the conscious life, and if 
any one of the elements of consciousness — feeling, knowing, will- 
ing — is to be regarded as the original form of the conscious life, 
(the primordial element of consciousness) it must manifestly be 
the will. The manifestations of the intellect and feeling acquire 
the fullest significance only when they serve as links in the chain 
that leads to action. Of course the first arousement of the con- 
scious life begins with sensation. When the first sensation has 
been experienced, the psychical processes are set a-going. Without 
education of the child's will it is next to impossible to improve 
his mental, moral, or physical well-being in any respect. 

The question we must really answer in this chapter is, " How 
has this element (the element of motor innervation) been 
added to the sentient life of the animal? " This leads us to im- 
press the fact that a distinction must be made between will in its 
narrower and in its wider application. In the more restricted use 
of the term, as commonly employed in ethics for example, will is 
made to mean the power of choosing between different possible 
lines of action or conduct. In this sense the will is only the pro- 
duct of mental development and in no sense an original factor. 
But if will be understood in the broader sense, it will be found to 
comprehend all forms of activity, whether determined by feeling 
L. P.-22 (337) 



338 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

or remembered images, and taken in this wide application, will 
must be regarded as the fullest expression of the conscious life, 
even from the very first beginnings of this conscious life. When 
we so conceive of the will, in these two aspects or significations, 
we can readily see that the development of will in the person, pro- 
ceeds from will in the wider sense to will in the more restricted 
sense. This development is not necessarily a steady progression. 
It is more frequently sporadic, and at times very one-sided, 
turned hither and thither by opposing circumstances ; but if this 
development attains its fullest fruition we find, as the final out- 
come, the individual will leading from these opposing impulses to 
a deep inner harmony of the entire mental life. 

To employ the figure of Professor Hoffding, we may then say 
that, as in Greek mythology Eros was made one of the oldest 
and at the same time one of the youngest of the gods, so in Psy- 
chology the will may, according to the point of view we take, be 
represented as the most primitive, or as the most complex and 
derivative of the mental products. If by will we mean only that 
power which manifests itself in action from deliberate choice alone, 
then we must maintain that there has already been a rather ex- 
tensive development in the individual's mental life, for such will 
acts as here signified, cannot exist in the lowest forms of the 
sentient consciousness. To understand the true nature of will, it 
is absolutely necessary to go back to the primitive germ, and to 
trace it in its path of development from the unconscious to the 
conscious — from the most purely involuntary movements to those 
that are more refined and intricate as examples of deliberative 
choice. 

Preyer was among the first to seek to account for the develop- 
ment of will in the child, and seems to regard it as the natural 
outcome of the desire the child has for everything that has once 
occasioned pleasurable sensations. On a priori, rather than on 
experimental grounds, Preyer maintains that the will is called 
into life by the union of two factors, (a), an end or pleasure de- 
sired ; (ft) , the movement necessary in order to attain this desired 
end. He places most emphasis upon the first of these two factors, 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE WILL. 339 

because the movements can in a large measure be dispensed with, 
in the more highly developed forms of the conscious life. 

Perez tells us: "The will is born little by little from reflex impulsive 
movements, which with the progressive unfolding of the faculties 
of perception and ideation, and after having been for a long time 
carried out and modified in various forms of activity, pass into 
the domain of the attention and become conscious or voluntary 
actions." Professor James regards the purely voluntary move- 
ments as secondary functions of our organism, while " reflex, in- 
stinctive, and emotional, are all primary performances." With 
him, and we think quite properly, too, the voluntary movements 
depend upon the remembered images of former involuntary ones. 
To quote directly : " When a given, particular movement having 
once occurred in a random, reflex, or involuntary way, has left 
an image of itself in the memory, then the movement can be de- 
sired again, proposed as an end and deliberately willed. But it is 
impossible to see how it could have been willed before. A supply 
of ideas of the various movements that are possible, left in the 
memory by experiences of their involuntary performance, is thus 
the flrst pre-requisite of the voluntary life." 

It is easy to see from the above, that representative psycholo- 
gists regard the earliest movements of the child as not voluntary, 
but, on the other hand, only reflex, instinctive, and impulsive. 
In the first movements of the child's existence there is present 
neither of the two elements named by Preyer (see above). Cer- 
tain it is, there is as yet no pleasure desired which serves as an 
end to be attained by movement. And, of course, having no 
clear idea of the end sought, the young creature can have no pos- 
sible notion of the movements that are requisite to the attain- 
ment of certain desired ends. 

The early movements of the child are no more voluntary 
actions than is the movement of the aspen leaf, of the brook 
splashing over the rocks as it tumbles down the mountain side, 
of the stone that flies from the boy's sling shot, or of the cannon 
ball, as it describes its parabola of six or seven miles over the 
waves and across th« water when hurled from the monster iron- 



340 PB ACTIO AL Lh'SSOAS JN PSYCHOLOGY. 

clad at sea. The individual, the personality, must first have a 
clear, definite idea of the movement and the purpose of it before 
voluntary action can possibly be initiated. The difference between 
movements, such as we see in the waving grain, the ebbing tide, 
the walking-beam of the monstrous ferry-boat, the ascending 
balloon, thefaUing meteor, the crashing iceberg, and the impul- 
sive reflex movements of the child, on the one hand; and on the 
other hand such movements as are exhibited by the wood-carver 
as he cuts a design, the etcher as he traces a plate, the pilot as he 
steers a vessel, the marine as he " sights" the cannon, the astron- 
omer as he turns his telescope upon the dimly lit star, the young- 
belle as she learns to trip the light fantastic, the child of five or six 
leiirning to weave mats at the kindergarten, is that the latter are 
voluntary actions or movements plus consciousness or attention. 
Attention, then, or conscious effort (and these two are synono- 
mous as you will readily see by reference to the chapter on atten- 
tion), must be added to mere movement in order that movement 
may become transformed into voluntary action. And yet you 
must not conceive of attention and conscious effort as being 
born long before will comes into existence, for attention or con- 
scious effort is only a form or result of will effort. Concentrated 
attention upon a desired end is inconceivable without presuppos- 
ing an active will force within the person. 

Preyer's classification of the different movements that take 
place is the one quite generally adopted, though, with Professor 
Tracy, we may say that the adoption of Preyer's classification 
does not of necessity commit one to his views with respect to the 
genesis of will. 

First, we have the i/22pu7si re movements. By this group-name 
it is intended to signify that large class of movements which take 
place without the presence of any external stimulation, without 
any sensory arousement to which the organism need make re- 
sponse. They are of course entirely outside of the domain of con- 
scious fit^ntion and are therefore distinctly will-less movements, 
being merely the result of an overflow of nervous energy. 

Second, there are those movements that form so large a por- 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE WILL. 341 

tion of the early manifestations of activity on the part of the 
infant — especially in the early days of child life. Neither do these 
re£ex movements involve the least degree of attention or con- 
scious control. In fact they involve just the opposite. They, 
too, are characterized by an utter absence of the subject's power 
of attention or conscious effort. 

We have, in the third place, what are called the instinctive 
movements. These instinctive movements constitute the major- 
ity of the activities in which animals engage, and are found to 
embrace a large number of the movements which human beings 
manifest. They are quite intimately associated with the emo- 
tional life and are so closelj related to habit that we are apt to 
consider all our habitual movements instinctive. The instino 
tive movement is but slightly raised above the reflex movement, 
and is different from the latter in that it (the instinctive) is char- 
acterized by an element of consciousness not present in either the 
reflex or impulsive movements. 

Finally, there is that large class of movements which are the 
pure results of deliberative choice — action in the truest and 
highest sense— voluntary action, which is indeed one of the es- 
sential characteristics of personality. No such thing as person- 
ality is conceivable without the power of self-direction — this 
action from motives and ideas toward aims and ideals. In this 
class of movements we have as essential features the desire of an 
end to be attained, concentrated attention upon this object or 
end, the imaging of this desired end before the mind, the picturing 
of the means to be employed in order to achieve it, and a forth- 
putting of energy in order that the desired end may actually be 
attained. These movements are really the bona fide voluntary 
actions, and we may call them deliberative or ideational move- 
ments. We shall now discuss the four classes of movements in 
the order named : 

1. The Impulsive Movements.— l!ieaT\y all the movements that 
characterize the child's pre-natal life belong to this class. They 
constitute the larger number of acts manifested by the new-born 
child, as they do in the new-born animal. We know that the 



342 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSTCEOLOOT. 

simplest organisms possess the power of setting up movemefits 
independently of any external stimulus. The source of move- 
ment certainly lies within the individual organism as an inher- 
ent capacity. Now this is by no means the same as sajang that 
such an automatic movement is causeless. These spontaneous 
or impulsive movements are brought about by internal changes, 
the setting free of accumulated energy. If you place the amoeba 
under the microscope and examine it in the most cursory way, 
you will find that this simplest of organisms manifests incessant 
activity, is incessantly in motion. The amoeba derives its very 
name from its perpetual modifications of movement, and move- 
ment, too, that is due to interna] excitation ; in other words, im- 
pulsive movements. In these spontaneous movements the internal 
changes set free a certain amount of accumulated or potential 
energy, which in turn depends upon the function of nourishment, 
and which is, of course, the fundamental and most primary of 
the organic processes. These impulsive movements, which are 
really produced by an overflow of nervous energy, are only pos- 
sible because life itself is a process of taking in and using up cer- 
tain constituents. But a further consequence of this is that the 
power of self -movement — movement utterly independent of ex- 
ternal stimulation — denotes only temporary independence of 
such external conditions. Permanent spontaneity would be a 
consumption of one's own fat, a gnawing at one's own vitals, 
and under such conditions life would endure for only a brief space. 

In the new-born child as in the new-born animal, the impulsive 
movements embrace all those spontaneous kickings, rolhngs, lip- 
suckings, cooings, jerkings of the head and arms, as well as the 
comical grimaces, all of which are such a paramount feature of 
the early weeks of infant life. The little fists are tightlj^ clenched, 
the arms are continually performing wild gyrations, the hands 
are moved toward and from the face, toward and from each 
other, without being prompted by any definite purpose ; in fact, 
nearly every muscle of the body is called into activity without 
the presence of any sort of external stimulus. 

Most of the impulsive movements, indeed nearly all of them, 



DEVELOPMENT OF TEE WILL. 343 

disappear by the end of the child's second year, though some of 
them, like yawning or gaping, persist through life. Seemingly 
many of the impulsive movements are unexpected by the child 
itself. He cannot understand their purport and his surprise at 
some of them is quite marked and notable. The moving of the 
lips, even the first smile, belongs to this class of movements, as do 
those movements of the hands that accompany swallowing and 
also the rolling of the eyes in sucking. 

While these impulsive movements in themselves are not voli- 
tional actions in the strict sense, they show that the organism is 
a little world in itself with the power of creating motions from 
within, and that it does not need to wait for external incentives 
to set it into activity. These impulsive movements are indeed 
the raw material which in the progressively unfolding will are so 
wrought upon by the child in its incessant activity that they are 
finally moulded and transformed, with the help of the other pow- 
ers of mind, into the highest type of deliberative actions. 

ReSex Movements.— CloBe upon the heels of the spontaneity 
which is manifested in the earliest stages of existence as a natural 
efflux of a superabundance of life, close upon these earliest self- 
movements in the path of development of the organism, irritabil- 
ity manifests itself. By irritability is meant the power of re- 
sponding to an external stimulus. By refiex movements, then, 
we mean those that occur as a response on the part of the ner- 
vous system to external stimulation, without any participation 
of self-consciousness or the presence of any deliberation or choice. 
They never enter into consciousness during their performance, 
though sometimes we clearly remember them after they have been 
performed. These reflex movements are found in the adult as 
well as in the child ; for example, the quick start on hearing the 
sudden report of a gun discharged near you, the quick with- 
drawal of the hand when one is picking berries and suddenly ob- 
serves a snake coiled up in close proximity, or the startled jump 
made by the boy as he gets into bed and his feet come in contact 
with a cold, clammy banana skin surreptitiously placed there by 
a mischievous mate. 



344 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

You see, then, that while reflex movements are not brought 
about immediately or directly by the internal state, but by 
a stimulus from the external world, they are nevertheless 
purely mechanical — they are most certainly not the result 
of conscious deliberation. While certain elementary feelings 
or sensations may be present, they are not made the subject 
of conscious elaboration into a desired end or object, toward the 
acquirement of which the activities ought to be directed. Hoff- 
ding puts it succinctly when he says: "Reflex movement is, in- 
deed, characteristic of the direct transition from excitation to 
movement. Reflex effect is just as voluntary as spontaneous 
movement." 

Any simple reflex movement is one that is set up by a simple 
excitation (external). If, however, several excitations occur to- 
gether, the effect depends upon whether the movements they each 
tend to bring about, harmonize or not. Thus a frog, minus a 
cerebrum, will croak if its back be gently stroked; but if at the 
same time his hind leg is powerfully stimulated, the frog will not 
croak. It might be well to interpolate the remark that the most 
effective inhibitions to reflex movements are supplied by the cere- 
bral hemispheres. In the first years of life, while the cerebrum is 
as yet undeveloped, no reflex movements are inhibited. 

Reflex movements are of the greatest importance and far- 
reaching signiflcance in will development, for upon them the 
strictly voluntary movements are immediately dependent. In the 
processes of inhibition mentioned above, the will is greatly bur- 
dened in its course of development, for in the more refined form 
of this inhibition, the chief function is the voluntary and deliberate 
repression of the reflex movements. Among the earliest of the 
reflex movements to manifest themselves, are those concerned 
with the respiratory functions. The first cry the child makes as 
the air passes into its lungs, is certainly of this character, for 
brainless children make themselves heard in the first moments of 
life, just as well as do normal children. In many new-born chil- 
dren, especially if much light be admitted to the room, sneezing- 
takes the place of crying, and is a pure reflex action, and as such 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE WILL. 345 

it continues through life. We need only to allude to certain other 
of the respiratory reflexes — such as coughing, choking, hiccough- 
ing, and the like, all of which are to be observed from the very 
first days of infant life. 

It is claimed that starting from a sudden noise or jar is not 
present at the very first ; but I have observed two yqyj good 
instances which plainly show that it may be present. My own 
little girl, w'hen but two hours old, was observed by me to start 
suddenly when I dropped the sliding window-screen so as to 
make a sudden noise. I made no less than three trials, each of 
which was successful in provoking the reflex movement — a sud- 
den start. 

The reflex movements of the limbs are quite numerous and 
manifest themselves rather early. On the seventh day Darwin 
tickled the sole of his child's foot with a piece of paper; the foot 
was jerked away and the toes curled up. 

3. The Instinctive Movements. — In so far as a line can be 
drawn between the reflex movements and the instinctive move- 
ments, it must be by saying that the latter are more com- 
plex, more active and more conscious than the former. Instead 
of the momentary nervous discharge so plainly manifest in re- 
flex, as well as the impulsive movements, there is a direction of 
the activities to a more or less distant end. Stimulus is required 
in order to set an instinct to work, but the kind of action is 
determined far more by the motor tendencies implanted and 
habits inculcated in the individual than by the nature of the 
stimulus. The stimulus serves only to open the valve that the 
motor tendencies may escape. Thestimulus "presses the button," 
the reacting organism " does the rest." 

You can also see that they differ from impulsive movements in 
that they do not take place in the absence of appropriate 
external stimuli. They also differ from impulsive movements 
in that they have an end or purpose, though, as Tracy remarks, 
this end may not be known at the time of the performance. They 
are also colored by certain emotional conditions. Thus, "a child 
in a sorrowful frame of mind does not laugh when his toes are 



346 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

tickled." The rise of right or left handedness belongs to this 
stage of instinctive movements. Professor Baldwin's experi- 
ments along this line are very interesting. He found : 

1st. No trace of preference for either hand manifested, so 
long as no violent muscular exertions were made. In more 
than 2,000 experiments one hand was preferred as often as the 
other. 

2d. From the sixth to the tenth month, the tendency to use 
both hands together was about twice as great as the tendency to 
use either hand alone. Out of 2,187 experiments, right hand was 
used alone 585 times; left hand, 568 times; both hands to- 
gether, 1,034 times. 

3d. Right-handedness developed under a pressure of muscular 
effort. Preference for the right hand manifested itself in reach- 
ing where violent effort was required, in the eighth month. Ex- 
periments show that in such violent effort, the right hand was 
preferred 74 times, the left 5 times, and both hands but once. 
Under the stimulus of bright colors, the right hand was employed 
84 times and the left hand but twice. 

The instinctive mouth movements are sucking, biting, chew- 
ing, and the like. According toPreyer, a child sucks, bites, smacks 
its lips, chews and licks just as instinctively as a chicken picks up 
corn and insects. The same holds true, in a great measure, of 
sitting, standing, creeping, walking and running. 

" It is an important epoch in a child's life when he succeeds in 
standing alone. Whole sets of muscles, heretofore scarcely used, 
are now brought into activity, and his progress is, from this 
time on, more all-sided and symmetrical. Hitherto his locomo- 
tion has been only in the form of creeping (which is performed in 
a great variety of ways, some children paddling straight ahead 
on all-fours, like little quadrupeds, some hitching along in an 
indescribable manner on their haunches, and some going back- 
wards, crab-fashion) ; but for the child who has learned to stand 
alone, the transition to walking is, in a very literal sense, "only 
a step." The first conscious steps are taken very timidly, and 
with an evident fear of falling. But frequently the first steps are 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE WILL. 347 

taken unconsciously. Sometimes a child who has learned to walk, 
partially or wholly, reverts for a season to creeping, for no ap- 
parent reason. Children who have older brothers or sisters are 
likely to walk at an earlier age than others, on account of the 
example and assistance of these older ones. At first the feet are 
placed disproportionatelj'' wide apart, giving rise to a curious 
waddling motion; while sometimes a child runs instead of walk- 
ing, and staggers, with the body inclined forward, and the hands 
stretched out as though he were afraid of falling, the feet, too, 
being lifted higher than is necessary, ifany children seem more 
amiable after they have learned to walk, doubtless on account of 
their newly acquired ability, which not only occupies their atten- 
tion, but enables them to go more readily to the objects of their 
desire."* 

4th. Ideational Movements. — We can best study the genesis 
of ideational movements when we note how the will gradually 
brings the bodily movements under its control. This is indeed 
the first important accomplishment in the course of the will's 
training, and is so important that motor-ideas must be consid- 
ered as the basis of all conscious volition. To all external ap- 
pearances action is directed from within outward, but even this 
presupposes an icDer activity — a determining of the ideas by the 
thought of an end to be attained. The thought of an end is the 
most important element; indeed, it is the distinguishing charac- 
teristic of all ideational movements. Passing over theimpulsive, 
reflex and instinctive movements in turn, we find that ideational 
movements are different from each and all of these in that they 
[ideational] involve the previous portrayal or re-presentation to 
the mind of an end sought, an object to be acquired, or an aim to 
be realized. It is only to such movements as these that the term 
"voluntary actions" can be applied. All the other classes are 
only movements, in just the same sense that movements among 
physical phenomena are movements. 

In the higher forms of will activity, then, we have the presence 
of motor-ideas that are determined by the thought of an end or 

* " The Psychology of Childhood " by Dr. Frederick Tracy, p. 66. 



348 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

desired object. Certain conditions are essential in order that we 
may have these motor-ideas. The first condition is that more- 
ments must be made which are felt. This shows that ideational 
movements exist only by virtue of the spontaneous, reflex and 
instinctive activities. 

Impulsive and reflex movements constitute the material which 
serves as the basis of our motor-ideas. 

In the most elementary and primitive manifestations of will, 
the distinction between sensation and motor impulses does not 
appear as yet. The reflexes as well as the instinctive movements 
are characterized by the fact that the external excitation — the 
stimulus — immediately evokes a movement ; a sensation may in- 
deed be felt, and also a feeling of pleasure or pain, together with 
a certain restlessness, if constraint be applied ; but memory, and 
of course motor-memories, play no part. "A motor impulse 
presupposes the memory of executed movement." This memory 
may consist in remembering the appearance of the movement, or 
in remembering the previous motor sensation itself. The latter 
is what we really mean by a " motor-idea." If the previous move- 
ment has had unfavorable, painful consequences, the memory 
image of this movement will, of course, be associated with pain, 
which will tend to prevent the repetition of the movement when 
the occasion again presents itself in consciousness. On the other 
hand, there will always be a tendency toward the repetition of 
movements that, when previously executed, evoked certain pleas- 
urable sensations, and which pleasurable sensations have been 
remembered and re-presented in consciousness. 

That it is this precedence of the motor idea which causes any 
movement to assume the true voluntary character, was made 
clear by Professor Miinsterberg in his admirable little treatise, 
"Die Willenshandlung." Indeed, Miinsterberg was the first to 
champion this view in any thorough-going and consistent way. 
One of the most terse of his sentences reads : " We will execute a 
certain motion, really signifies that we are conscious of the idea 
of the motion, or of the motor idea." 

Professor Preyer divides ideational movements into three 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE WILL. 349 

classes: (1) imitative movements; (2) expressive movements; 
(3) deliberate actions. 

(1). Imitative Movements. — Under this category are subsumed 
all those lower voluntary activities in which the child depends 
upon an observed model or pattern, and which would never be 
attempted by the child unless first observed in some one else. 
This imitative propensity begins as early as the third or fourth 
month, in imitation of sounds, the pouting of the lips, etc, 
Preyer tells us of his child that "the first attempt at imitation 
occurred in the fifteenth week, the child making an attempt to 
purse his lips when one did it close in front of him, while in the 
seventeenth week the protruding of the tip of the tongue was 
perfectly imitated once when done before the child's face, and the 
child smiled at this strange movement, which seemed to please 
him." We quote again from Professor Tracy, who by the way, 
in his published thesis — "The Psychology of Childhood" — has 
given us the best epitome of the literature on the subject: 

" There is no point on which I find so much uniformity as this, 
that imitation begins during the second half of the first year. 
This is true of almost all children without exception, so far as I 
know, and extends not only to movements proper, but also to 
vocal imitation, as we shall see. A boy of seven months tried 
hard to say simple monosyllables after his mother. Another is 
reported to have accomplished his first unmistakable imitations 
when seven months old, in movements of the head and lips, 
laughing, and the like. Crying was imitated in the ninth month, 
and in the tenth, imitation of all sorts was quite correctly exe- 
cuted, though even at the end of the first year new movements, 
and those requiring complex coordination, often failed. A child 
of eight and a half months, having seen his mother poke the fire, 
afterwards crept to the hearth, seized the poker, thrust it into 
the ash-pan, and poked it back and forth with great glee, chuckling 
to himself. Another child in his tenth month, imitated whistling, 
and later, the motions accompanying the familiar ' pat-a-cake,' 
etc. In his eleventh month he used to hold up the newspaper 
and mumble in imitation of reading. Another boy, in his elev- 



350 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCE0L06T. 

enth month, used to cough and sniff like his grandfather, and 
amused himself by grunting, crowing, gobbling and barking in 
imitation of the domestic animals and birds. A little girl of this 
age used to reproduce with her doll some of her own experiences, 
such as giving it a bath, punishing it, kissing it, and singing it to 
sleep. One fine morning in May, I took the little boy, R., for a 
walk through a beautiful avenue, where the trees on each side 
met overhead in a mass of foliage. These trees were full of birds, 
busy with their nest-building, and full of song. The little fellow 
was fairly enchanted. He could not go on. Every few steps he 
would stop (at the same time pulling at my hand to make me 
stop, too), and looking up into the trees, with his head turned 
on one side, would give back the bird-song in a series of warbling, 
trilling notes of indescribable sweetness. I very much doubt 
whether any adult voice, however trained, or any musical instru- 
ment, however complicated, could produce those wonderful in- 
flections. The same boy, a little later, used to imitate with his 
voice the boys whistling in the street, giving the right pitch. An- 
other boy, at thirteen months, brushes his hair, tries to put on 
his shoes and stockings, and many other similar things. Indeed 
the whole life of the child of this age is full of imitation. Going 
out with the girl, F., I observed that she did almost everything 1 
did; I brushed some dust from my coat and she immediately 
'brushed' her dress in like manner. It is in fact difficult fully 
to realize how the child of this age is watching our every move- 
ment, and learning thereby. Not only parents and teachers, but 
every one who comes in contact with the child, even casually and 
occasionally, contributes his share, whether he will or not, in the 
child's education. The moral of this is too obvious to require 
repetition." 

The child's tendency to imitate those about him is a very im- 
portant factor in furthering the development of will. From a 
very early period it is right in line with the force of the child's 
personal desires, thus tending greatly to a shortening of the pro- 
cess of acquisition in the case of useful movements which he 
would otherwise perform. Thus a child, thrown into company 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE WILL. 351 

with other children who are just able to walk, learns to walk 
much more quickly than a child cut off from the example of 
others. 

Children vary greatly in the strength of the impulse to per- 
form imitative movements. Much depends upon bodily health, 
inherited vigor, hygienic conditions, nourishment and the like. 
An energetic child, one with a full head of steam, is much more 
likely to pick up the movements of others and imitate them, 
than a child that is poorly nourished, feeble and lethargic. 
Much depends upon the temperament— a child of an independ- 
ent, self-assertive turn of mind will do little in the line of imitat- 
ing others' movements, for such a child prefers his own mode of 
activity. 

But it must be remembered that imitation is more than mere 
reproduction. The chief value of imitation lies in the fact that 
it necessitates a sort of unconscious selection and synthesis of 
former movements. Thus, the child could not learn to wave its 
hand in obedient response to a wave of the hand by the mother, 
if he had not already acquired a certain stock of experiences in 
waving the hand in other ways— in the impulsive and reflex 
movements. This higher form of constructive imitation pre- 
supposes, of necessity, a certain fund of remembered motor 
experiences. 

2. Expressive Movements.— The most important group of the 
expressive movements is that which comprehends the movements 
involved in speech ; but the expressive movements of the face and 
dermal appendages must also be included— blushing, crying, 
bristling of the hair, laughing. Likewise certain movements of 
the head and a large number of gestures fall under the same rubric 
— " expressive movements." 

The first cry or the first smile is in all probability the result of 
an external stimulus, and the movement itself a reflex one. But 
a movement that is at first reflex may become the intentional ex- 
pression of the mental states. Certain it is that crying, gestur- 
ing, and the like, later fall under the control of the will, and 
become purposive expressions of the conscious life. 



352 PRACTICAL LESSONS TN PSYCHOLOGY. 

The first so-called smile has been observed in children less than 
two weeks old, but it can, in such cases, be regarded as only an 
impulsive movement — the outcropping of a superabundance of 
pleasurable feeling. Preyer found that a smile could be evoked 
very early by tickling the sole of the infant's foot. In the case of 
his own child he observed such a smile on the sixteenth day after 
birth, and "real smiles from the twenty-sixth day on; in the eighth 
week enjoymentof music was manifested by laughingand smiling, 
accompanied by lively movements of the limbs and a bright, 
gleaming expression of the eyes. The imitative laugh began 
about the ninth month after birth.'' Mih. Talbot's account of 
the genesis and development of the smile is very interesting in 
this connection : 

"The smile begins when the infant first begins to be conscious 
of outside things; attention gradually becomes closer and more 
fixed; the smile at this stage is a mere stare, vacant at first, but 
growing steadily more intelligent and wondering in its appear- 
ance. About the third week this begins to relax very slightly 
into the appearance of pleasure. At this point there comes more 
and more of aglow on the face — a beaming — then in a day or 
two a very slight relaxation of the muscles, increasing every da}'. 
This dawning smile is often very beautiful, but it is not yet a 
smile. It is almost a smile, and I am confident that no one will 
ever know the exact day when the baby fairly and intelligently 
for the first time smiles.'" 

The kiss is an expressive action, not at all hereditary, but ac- 
quired and embodying an imitative element. "The child sel- 
dom understands its meaning or gives it spontaneously till in 
the second year." 

Preyer tells us that there are no less than three sorts of pout- 
ing, and these differ from each other according to the specific 
cause. The first variety is merely a protrusion of the lips, which 
can be seen in the very earliest hours of life, with some children. 
It is hardly necessary to say that it is purely impulsive. The 
second kind embraces what is commonly known as the pursing of 
the lips, pinching them as we do in later adult life during 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE WILL. 363 

strained attention. The third is the pout of sullenness, which de- 
velops much later than the others, and cannot be said to be 
due to imitation, for it frequently occurs where no opportunity 
for imitation is afforded. 

Shaking the head in dissent and nodding it in approval arise 
from different sources. The latter is acquired, but the first is the 
result of a defensive movement (due to certain hereditary ten- 
dencies), made frequently as early as the second week, when one 
attempts to put food or any object into the infant's mouth when 
it is not hungry. We are told of some instances of this side to 
side movement of the head, in children not more than one week 
old. 

But we must pass to the remaining group of ideational 
movements. 

3. Deliberative Movements.— In order to perform deliberative 
or voluntary movements in the strict sense of the term it is cer- 
tainly necessary that one first have an extensive experience with 
movements of the involuntary sort. A voluntary movement is 
one which is pictured beforehand in the imagination. No volun- 
tary act is possible without a motor-idea, and this motor-idea is 
supplied by either the memory or the reproductive imagination in 
the form of re-presented movement. Many movements that are 
at first performed in voluntarily are afterwards performed deliber- 
ately, i. e., from a desire to attain a certain end or object present 
in the imagination or the re-present ative consciousness. When 
desire, in the proper sense of the term, comes into being, a certain 
amount of attention is bestowed upon the object sought, and 
the motor-ideas are re-presented and kept in mind, we have what 
can correctly be designated deliberative or voluntary action in 
the true sense. In this truly voluntary action, then, these three 
things are necessarily presupposed — desire, attention and motor 
ideas. By means of several varieties of involuntary movement 
the child gains some experience with his powers, thereby learn- 
ing the results of bringing these powers into activity, and volun- 
tary movement is thus really the outgrowth of trial and experi- 
ence. Preyer found no movement in the first three months, 

L. p.— 23 



354 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

which he could regard with certainty as a strictly deliberative 
movement. 

This brief survey of the various kinds of will acts shows again 
the importance of the distinction between voluntary and non- 
voluntary attention, made in a previous chapter. While non- 
voluntary attention has the character of an instinct, voluntary 
attention makes its appearance as a sort of impulse ; being sub- 
sequently guided by an idea of what it desires to perceive, it 
becomes capable of being developed "into clearly-conscious, 
choosing, will." The endeavor on the part of the voluntary 
attention to retain and call forth certain memory-images and 
motor-ideas is characterized by a feeling of effort. 

In this rich fund of spontaneous, reflex and instinctive move- 
ments, nature has really paved the way for our highest types of 
deliberative volition — volition in the truest and best sense. But 
at the same time, nature in so doing gives us too much and too 
little. These strong, impulsive movements, which are pri- 
mordial, must be guided into a definite direction and modified 
both in degree and kind before they can serve the pui-pose of 
self-conscious personality. Thus, nearly every movement of the 
body is at first produced impulsively, involuntarily and at ran- 
dom ;but afterwards they are either retained and repeated, or in- 
hibited and suppressed. At first none of the reflex or impulsive 
movements are inhibited, but education represses them more and 
more. The little child whose higher brain centers, whose cere- 
bral hemispheres, have as yet no active influence, lacks the con- 
trolling apparatus which is the condition of all self-restraint. 
The extent to which practice and accommodation may go, is 
exhibited in the case of the Siamese twins, whose bodies had 
grown into one and who had brought their movements into such 
harmony that, as necessity arose, and without any preconcerted 
signal, they could walk, run and jump just as though they had 
been one single individual. 

This process of inhibition, by means of which the will obtains 
such power over the body, goes on muchmoreslowlyin man than 
in animals. The child needs two years for the same course of 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE WILL. 355 

education that requires tlie kitten but a month to go through. 
This ability to inhibit movements is certainly one of the most 
certain criteria of the presence of will. To keep from moving is cer- 
tainly more difficult than to move, especially in a being so rest- 
less as a child naturally is. To will is to bind or commit ourselves 
to something definite. This can be done either in the way of in- 
hibiting certain tendencies to move, or in deciding upon a certain 
definite kind of movement. 

The course of development that follows the will in its evolu- 
tion is well set forth in the following words of Professor Hoffding 
of the University of Copenhagen : 

"Nature gives us from the first an impetus, for we find our- 
selves already active at the birth of consciousness. Conscious- 
ness only gradually acquires an influence over the activities 
(whether inward or outward), and this influence never becomes 
complete. The spontaneous impulse to movement, the reflex 
movements, and the half-conscious movements accompanied by 
an obscure feeling, preserve a certain independence, even after 
conscious thought has nominally taken the direction of affairs. 
Similarly with involuntary series of ideas and with emotions. 
The unconscious and the involuntary play a part, to an extent 
varying in individual cases, in all conscious volition, and some- 
times break into open revolt. . . . These unconscious tenden- 
cies to activity are not noticed so long as t\\ey bend in the same 
direction as the conscious thoughts and feelings. Their force 
merges with that of the conscious motives, which latter receive 
the honor or shame of the whole action. We feel ourselves free 
and unchecked in our activity. It is only when these unconscious 
tendencies work against the end of conscious endeavor, that 
attention is called to the fact of a something in us, of which we 
are never, or at any rate, not at the moment, master. This sense 
of inner division, of a contradiction, is at the same time a feeling 
of constraint. Such a feeling of constraint often denotes a tran- 
sition to a higher stage in the life of the will. It is the condition 
that makes it possible for us to pronounce judgment upon our 
earlier volition; for while our will works on with undivided en- 



356 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

ergy, there is no room for an estimation or a judgment, but we 
go straight ahead. Here is seen the great importance of the 
interval already mentioned. It may conduce to a stoppage, 
even to a hesitation and a discord in the mind, but it is necessary 
to higher development. It may also lead to the absolute con- 
demnation and rejection of the previous bent of the will.'' 

The connection of one phase of mental development with all 
the others is well illustrated in the close dependence of intellectual 
growth upon the exercise of the will, especially in voluntary at- 
tention. We saw in Chapter XVIII, that, though chiefly related 
to the volitional side of mind, attention is the primary condition 
of all intellectual operations. All the higher forms of mental 
activity show plainly the necessity of the exerc )f the will in the 
way of concentration. This makes intellectra : owth the direct 
outcome of will-development: for it is voluntary concentration 
that makes possible the highest and most worthy activity of all 
the mental processes. 



LESSON XXIV. 

TIME RELATIONS OF MENTAL PHENOMENA. 

No sketch of Psychology would be at all complete if the discus- 
sion of the duviitiou of our various mental acts be omitted. The 
measurement of the time rate of the various mental processes 
was, historically, almost the very fir^t of the attempts made by 
the experimental psj'chologist to put the science upon an exact 
basis. Certain it is that " Psychometry " has interested and oc- 
cupied more students than any other field of investigation in 
modern Psychology. Psychometry is the general term used to 
designate that department of research, w^hich has for its object 
the measurement of the duration of the mental processes. 

From the earliest times the question of the rapidity of thought 
has been discussed. We have always been conscious of thinking, 
sometimes faster and sometimes more slowly. This is a matter 
of universal consciousness. In times of excitement and mental 
activity, our ideas come quicker than a flash. We know that the 
rapidity of thought is prodigious in dreams — a whole "dream- 
plot" unfolding itself in a few seconds, which, in oi'dinary wakeful 
consciousness, would take hours to consummate. In a former 
chapter we discussed the influence of drugs u{)on the flow of our 
ideas, and found a good illustration in the account of Thomas 
De Quincey, who, when he increased the usual dose of opium, be- 
lieved "that in one night he had lived a thousand years, or indeed 
a length of time that exceeded all human experience." We know, 
on the other hand, that thought in the half-witted, stupid person 
is sluggish. 

But until a few years ago the various speculations with refer- 
ence to the rapidity of thought, were nothing more than specula- 
tions — mere guesses. The subjective consciousness can never re- 

(357) 



358 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

veal to us which sensations travel the faster, for example, those 
of sight or hearing. The introspective psychologist can never 
give us any authoritative verdict on the time rate of mental phe- 
nomena. Whether it takes longer to choose between two colors 
than between two flowers can never be definitely settled by the 
student who adheres uncompromisingly to the old school. Exper- 
i mental Psychology shows its hand perhaps better in the field of 
Psychometry than in almost any other department of the stud}' 
of the mind and its forms of functioning. There is no fixed stand- 
ard of measure in the inner life itself. The speeding thought 
must and can be measured just as truly by means of fixed, ob- 
jective standards as can any of thephenomenain physical science. 
You can measure the time-rate of thought just as truly as you 
can measure the time-rate of sound or light. Yon can time the 
rate of a thought just as you can time the speed of a race-horse 
or of the college athlete in his " one-hundred-yard dash." 

Instead then, of the vague subjective estimates v/ith reference 
to the duration of the various mental processes, we can have 
exact measurements, made after fixed and unalterable objective 
standards. This is what the investigator in Experimental Psy- 
chology actually does. He proposes to give us, instead of the 
crude estimates ol the internal sense, certain precise and absolute 
measurements of the exact duration of the individual states of 
consciousness. The time measurement of the mental processes is 
one of the chief ways of getting at the mental laws. 

The attempts in this direction are indeed recent. The first 
ostensible time measurement of mental acts was begun by Bon- 
ders in 1861. At the time he began there were, as there are now, 
some strong prejudices to overcome. There were also immense 
diflBculties presented in the line of inexact and imperfect appa- 
ratus. So good a scientist as Miiller wrote just before Bonders 
began his work : " We shall probably never attain the means of 
ascertaining the speed of the nervous activities, because we lack 
the comparative distances from which the speed of a movement, 
in this respect analogous to light, could be computed." 

But we now know that sensory processes travel along the nerves 



TIME RELATIONS OF MENTAL PHENOMENA. 359 

on an average of about one hundred and ten feet per second and 
often less than twenty-six feet. Not many years ago people em- 
ployed such phrases as "as quick as thought" as the extreme 
standard of "rapid transit." It was even "quicker than light- 
ning." But it is now a demonstrated fact that while you are 
performing one of the simplest mental acts, e. g., deciding which 
is the longer word, "cat" or "Nebuchadnezzar," electricity or 
light would flash clear across the continent. 

It is interesting at least as a matter of history, to notice that 
the first suggestion that lay at the basis of modern Psychom- 
etry came from the seemingly remote science of astronomy. It 
is related of Maskelyne, the astronomer of the Greenwich Observ- 
atory, that in 1795 he observed that his assistant, Kinnebrook, 
always noted the passing of stars across the meridian from .5 
to .8 seconds too late, and thinking such negligence inexcusable, 
discharged him from his employ. Later, in 1820, in comparing 
his astronomical calculations with those of others, Bessel dis- 
covered what is known as the "personal equation." 

Suppose the meridian is at the point x and the star is first 
at a, and a second after is at o. 



¥: 



The exact instant the transit occurs, i. e.,the precise moment 
at which the star passes the point x, is recorded, and it is found 
that the several astronomers always differ in their records as to 
the time of transit. They use the same standards or units of 
measure, the same kind of apparatus, the very same instruments, 
and get different results. This difference, then, is of subjective 
origin. One observer can see and record quicker than can his 
fellow observer. By "personal equation," then, is meant "such 
systematic errors in observation as originate in theobserver him- 
self, in distinction from those errors due to instrumental and 
atmospheric conditions." 

Differences due to personal equation vary from .3 sec. to more 



360 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

than one second, and vary according to the hour of the day, the 
circulation of the blood, fatigue and other causes.* 

Next to astronomy, Psychology owes a debt to physiological 
experiment for opening the way for researches upon the time-rate 
of mental phenomena. In 1850 Helmholtz measured in a precise 
manner the time of the transmission of nerve action through a 
given nerve length, calculating the velocity of nerve transmission. 

These deliverances of astronomy and physiology are, of course, 
but introductory to the problem before us : the measurement of 
the duration or time rate of the mental processes. Yet they do 
furnish certain elements that lie at the basis of our calculation. 
Within recent years there has been great improvement in spe- 
cialization of methods and modification of measuring apparatus, 
so that we now have a body of facts and generalizations that 
are indeed quite valuable to every student of mind and its ac- 
tivities. 

The general problem in all the attempts at such measurement as 
here indicated, is practically the same. This problem is to de- 
termine by precise measurement the exact length of the interval 
which elapses between the time a certain end-organ of sense is 
stimulated, and some form of resulting motion, which motion is 
really made to signify that the sensation has been perceived. 
For example, you are told that a bell is about to strike, and 
as soon as you have heard the sound, you are to press the elec- 
tric key before you. The stimulus may consist of a "sound {e. g., 
a bell, musical note, falling ball, or click of an electric key), a 
touch, a stimulus of pressure, heat or cold, or it may be a visual 
stimulus, such as the appearance of one or more colors or figures, 
letters or words. The resulting motion is usually the pressing 
of the finger upon an electric key, or speaking into a ' ' speech 
key," or merely parting the lips. The quickest movement that 
can be used in such experiments, to designate that the sensation 
has been received, is the most advantageous because there is less 
room for variation. By a large number of experiments, Dessoir 



* For the best discussion of " The Personal Equation " see the interesting and 
exhaustive article of Prof. Sanford in "American Journal of Psychology," Vol. II. 



TIME RELATIONS OF MENTAL PHENOMENA. 361 

found this most rapid movement to be that made by bringing 
the thumb and index finger into contact with each other. Ewald 
declares the quickest form of reaction is simply to lift the finger 
from the key. Dessoir has devised a finger contact key that is 
very simple but effective. Two metallic thimbles are placed in 
circuit. One of these thimbles is worn on the thumb, and the 
other on the index finger, and electrical contact is made by 
bringing finger and thumb together. A very good piece of appa- 
ratus is a new and modified form of the speech key, in which the 
electrical circuit is made and broken by the movement of the lips. 
Thus you start the chronoscope when you present a column of 
figures to the eye for the subject to add, which he does as rapidly 
as possible ; he stops the chronoscope by breaking the electric 
circuit in parting his lips when he announces the result of his 
mental operations. It might be of interest to know that we can 
measure as small a time interval as j-q-^^^-^ part of a second 
with reasonable accuracy. 

All endeavors to measure thetime rate of the mental processes 
begin with the problem of simple reaction time. By simple reac- 
tion time is meant the time that elapses between a single stimu- 
lus, the quality of which was known beforehand, and a predesig- 
nated movement. Let us together perform an experiment to 
illustrate simple reaction time, and I think we will have a clearer 
notion of what is meant. The experiment, which we plot be- 
forehand, consists simply in this: I agree to press the electric 
key on which my finger is resting as soon as I feel you touch 
my forehead with a pencil. Now the time that elapses between 
your touching my forehead and my pressing the electric button 
would be rightly called simple reaction time. 

You say at once that that is such a simple experiment. Well, let 
me remind you that the simplest of reaction times is a very com- 
plex affair. There are no less than five distinct elements in this 
shortest of mental reactions: (1) The impression of the sense- 
organ, as when you touch my forehead with the pencil; (2) the 
transmission of the impulse along the appropriate nerve fibers to 
the brain ; (3) the transformation of this sensation impulse into 



362 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

a motor brain process ; (4) the conduction of this motor impulse 
outward to the organ that is to be moved. In our simple experi- 
ment it is the transmission of the motor impulse to the finger 
that is to press the electric button. (5) The contraction of the 
muscle or the setting free of the muscular energy, as in the 
actual movement of the reacting finger. 

The factor of most vital interest to the psychologist is the one 
numbered (3), the real central or brain factor in this whole pro- 
cess. But, taking up each of these factors in turn, we have to 
consider : 

(1) The inertia of the sense organs is determined by meas- 
uring how rapidly a number of sense stimuli may follow one an- 
other without being fused together. Thus, how rapidly may 
touches be made upon the skin at the extremity of the index 
finger, that my mind may perceive them as single, separate and 
disparate sense impressions? Or how fast can electric sparks 
flash before my eye and I still be able to perceive each separate 
flash? You can readily see that, since the nervous system is con- 
structed as it is, at least some small fragment of time must elapse 
before the nerve elements are aroused. Also that when they are 
once excited, the effects of the arousement would continue for 
some little time after the stimulation itself has ceased. 

Experiments with reference to the inertia of the sense organs 
have been most satisfactory in the realms of touch, hearing and 
sight. With reference to touch, it must be said that the different 
parts of the skin differ so with respect to sensitiveness and power of 
recovering from former stimulations, that we have no general re- 
sults for all parts of the body where sensations of contact may be 
experienced. You remember that the skin over the lips is so sensi- 
tive that the two divider's points may be very close together and 
still be felt as two, while if applied to the small of the back, they 
must be as far apart as two and one-half or three inches in order 
to be perceived as two. So with reference to the rapidity with 
which touch stimulations may be applied and yet felt as separate 
and discrete. The most satisfactory experiments, I think, were 
those of Sergi, who found that as many as 1,000 touch stimula- 



TIME RELATIONS OF MENTAL PHENOMENA. 3(53 

tions could be applied to the finger and yet be felt as discrete. With 
reference to hearing, it has been found by experiment that the 
noise of the electric spark, heard with one ear only, has been dis- 
tinguished at intervals of only .002 of a second. The number of 
separate sensations of sound possible under the most favorable 
conditions is, therefore, about 500 in a second. For vision the 
stimulations must be as far apart as ^^5^ of asecond. You see then 
that the time sense of the finger is most sensitive, since it can per- 
ceive y-jjV^ of a second ; that of the ear is next {^^-^ of a second), 
and the eye is comparativel.y slow, being able to perceive accu- 
rately not less than -gig of a second. As yet no satisfactory 
method has been devised for measuring the time sense in the 
smell and taste domain. The inertia of these two senses cannot 
he computed with any reasonable degree of accuracy. 

The rate at which a nervous impulse may be transmitted 
has been determined by experiment upon both animals and man. 
It varies with different individuals, under different conditions and 
in different nerves. As already intimated, the sensory pi-ocesses 
travel along the nerves on an average of only 110 feet per 
second, and often less than 26 feet. This is exceedingly and sur- 
prisingly slow when we stop to think that light travels faster 
than 180,000 miles in a second. While yon or I would be per- 
forming the simplest mental act, electricity would have shot 
across the continent. 

There are many conditions which certainly affect the reaction 
times in all individuals to a greater or less extent. These condi- 
tions may be grouped under two general heads : (a) subjective ; 
(ft) objective. By the subjective conditions we mean, of course, 
such as affect the mental attitude of the person reacting. By ob- 
jective conditions we mean those that affect the external features 
of the experiment. We shall first discuss the latter group. 

In the first place, much depends upon the nature of the impres- 
sion. The reaction time will vary considerably according to the 
organ stimulated. The average for the sense of sight is .185 sec, 
for the sense of touch it is .147 sec, while for hearing it averages 
about .136 sec. It is commonly supposed that sight is the quick- 



364 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

est of the senses; but this is notthecase, as reference to the above 
figures plainly shows. Hearing is by long odds, the quickest of 
the senses. The senses of taste and smell are both much slower 
than the others, and the time is different for the different kinds 
of taste and smell stimuli. For smell, oil of roses takes .275 sec, 
musk .315 sec, and ether but .255 sec. It requires a longer time 
to perceive bitter than it does to perceive sweet tastes; a longer 
time to perceive acid tastes than it does to perceive those that 
are saline in quality. 

In the second place, the intpiitiity of the ,stiniuhis plays an im- 
portant part. Within moderate limits the time decreases as the 
stimulus increases. Wundt and Cattell, in the study of reaction 
time, found the effect of increasing the stimuli for sensations of 
sound, to be something as follows: 

The noise made by the hammer falling from the hei<:ht of 

Keaction time. 

1 millimeter 0.217 sec. 

4 millimeters 0.146 sec. 

8millimeter.s 0.]32bw;. 

16 millimeters ; 0.135 sec. 

2 centimeters 0.161 sec. 

5 centimeters 0.1 76 sec. 

25 centimeters 0.159 sec. 

55 centimeters 0.004 see. 

Berger and Cattell varied a light stimulus from 7 to 23, to 
123, to 315, to 1,000 units of intensity, and found that the time 
for perceiving each was as follows : 

Intensity. Reaction time. 

7 0.210 sec. 

23 0.184 sec. 

123 0.174 sec. 

315 0.170 sec. 

1,000 0.168 sec. 

The third objective condition that affects the reaction time is 
the mannei' of the reaction. Simple movements and those made 
familiar by practice, shorten the reaction time as compared 



TIME RELATIONS OF MENTAL PHENOMENA. 365 

with the more complicated and unusual movements. Thus, to 
announce the reaction by speech requires a longer time than to . 
announce it by pressing the index finger against the electric key. 

With reference to the subjective factors we would say, in the 
first place, that the element of expectancy shortens reaction time. 
The more definite this foreknowledge is, the quicker is the reac- 
tion. Thus, if a preceding signal, at an interval neither too 
great nor too small, informs us that we are about to be called 
upon to react, the reaction time is necessarily diminished. If 
we experiment once with such a preceding signal, and then at an- 
other time do not use the signal at all, we find the reaction time 
shorter in the second case. Thus, with the warning signal Wundt 
reacted in 0.175 sec, while without any such signal it took him 
0.266 sec; and Gotz Martius found that with the signal here- 
acted in 0.127 sec, while without it 0.178 sec. were required to 
complete the reaction. The time-interval required for perceiving 
the sound of a ball falling 25 centimeters, without a preliminary 
signal, was 0.253 sec, but with such a signal, was reduced to 
0.076 sec When the fall was 5 centimeters the reaction time 
was reduced from 0.266 sec. to 0.175 sec In order to secure 
such favorable results, the signal must be of a nature not to dis- 
tract the attention of the person reacting, and must precede the 
stimulus by a rather constant time-interval, and this interval 
between the preliminary signal and the actual stimulus should 
not be so long as to overstrain the attention. The most favor- 
able interval between signal and stimulus is from one to two 
seconds. 

Again, the effect of distraction must be noted. The distraction 
may consist in having a disturbing noise in the room where 
the person is reacting; or better, have this person's mind engaged 
in performing some other mental task at the same time, such as be- 
ginning with the number 9 and adding 2 continuously. Wundt's 
reaction time was thereby lengthened from 0.189 sec to 0.313 
sec, when the disturbing element was an unusual sound in the 
room. Cattell'sreaction time was lengthened as much as 0.030 sec 
when mentally occupied with simple addition, such as indicated 



366 



PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 



above, during the reactions. Some persons are exceedingly sen- 
sitive to disturbances, while others are not at all so. 

A word must also be said with reference to the effect of practice 
:ind the infiupnce of fatigue. Practice and concentrated attention 
increase the speed of ourmental processes, whilefatigue, of course, 
diminishes them. The accuracy is less when the person is fa- 
tigued, while greater exactness is induced by practice and atten- 
tion. Practice has been found to diminish the reaction time by 
as much as one-third. Fatigue, or anything else that makes ex- 
cessive demands upon one's nervous energy, such as the heat of a 
sultry summer day, or the enervation that follows a sleepless 
night always lengthens it. In cases of idiocy, imbecility and epi- 
lepsy, the length of this time interval for reactions is greatly 
increased. Tlie simple reaction time of an old mendicant in the 
alms-house was at first as much as 0.9952 sec, which by practice 
was lowered to 0.1866 sec, but could not be gotten below that 
figure. Dr. W. Bevan Lewis furnishes us the followiugtableshow- 
ing the reaction time of certain of the epileptic insane: 

REACTION TIME IN EPILEPTIC INSANITY. 



Sound 
Stimulus. 



J. J. Depression with dementia, sluggisli... 0.200 

B. L. Dementia, suspicious, violent 0.210 

J. V. Maniacal, gross delusion 0.211 

J.I. Dementia with excitement 0.220 

M. C. Hemiplegia, querulous 0.22;{ 

AV. H. Dementia, apathy..... 0.22M 

K. H. Advanced dementia, torpor 0.240 

S. F. Bright aspect, lively, excitable, butl 

childish and unstable 0.281 

R. T. II. Bright and lively aspect, but of 

sluggish intelligence 0.297 



Sight 
Stimulus. 



232 
295 
251 
258 
251 
262 
265 



0.300 



0.294 



It might also be intimated that the appearance of sprightli- 
ness and quickness does not of necessity signify a speedy and ac- 
curate performance of the psycho-physical processes that are 
involved in the most simple reactions. Of two young men experi- 
mented upon by Exner, one was found to be of a very lively 



TIME RELATIONS OF MENTAL PHENOMENA. 367 

temperament, while the other was regarded rather sluggish. Ex- 
periment revealed that the simple reaction time in the former of 
these two persons was as much as 0.3311 sec, while in the latter 
it was but 0.1837 sec. This question of individual difference was 
sufficiently discussed in connection with the subject of "personal 
equation " at the beginning of this chapter. The effects of drugs 
and narcotics upon the quickness of the mental processes re- 
ceived sufficient treatment in Chapter IV. where Miinsterberg's 
recent and extensive experiments were referred to. 

We must now turn the attention to the discussion of the more 
complicated reactions. If, instead of reacting in a certain pre- 
scribed way, previously agreed upon between reactor and experi- 
menter, we have different sorts of stimuli, each to be reacted to 
in a definite way, thus introducing the element of adaptation or 
selection, we have a complex or discriminative reaction. Let me 
illustrate the difference between the two kinds of reaction. Sup- 
pose you are facing the black-board, on which any letter or char- 
acter may be written, but is covered by a screen or by my hand. 
As quick as I remove my hand and you see the letter, you touch 
the electric key or react in any other way to signify that you see 
a letter. In the second place, I tell you that my hand conceals 
either the letter A or the letter B ; if the letter A is displayed on 
removing my hand, you are to react by pressing the electric key 
with the index finger of the left hand; if the letter B is shown, 
you are to press the electric key with the thumb of your right 
hand. Or, if a blue color is displayed, you are to press the key with 
the index finger of your right hand, and if a red color, you are to 
react with the middle finger of the same hand. You see, then, in 
these two latter cases we have, as distinguished from the first, 
simple reaction plus selection, which selection depends upon a 
definite recognition of the stimulus (e. g., whether A orB; or 
whether red or blue), and a choice between the movements {e.g., 
a movement of the index or middle finger). This added time 
made necessary by the element of selection is called " Discrimina- 
1 ion Time," or " Discernment Time." 

Bonders was the first to experiment in this line, and he himself 



368 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

had a simple reaction time of 0.201 sec. He then devised exper- 
iments in which he was to reach with the right hand to a red light 
and with the left hand to a white light. This latter complicated 
form of reaction took 0.355 sec, or an increase of 0.104 sec. This 
0.104 sec. really represents the discernment time; it is really the 
measure of the time involved in the purely mental processes em- 
ployed in the selection of means and manner of reaction to cer- 
tain specific stimulations. 

It remains for us to name the conditions that affect these more 
complex reactions. 

(1) The number of distinctions and choices possible. 

(2) The foreknowledge of the subject, or the element of ex- 
pectancy on the part of the reacting person. 

(3) The complexity of the impressions. Thus, pictures are 
recognized more quickly than letters, letters more quickly than 
words, English words more quickly than words of a foreign lan- 
guage. As already intimated, the quality of the sensation makes 
a great difference with respect to the ease of adaptation and per- 
ception. Salt is recognized more quickly than acid ; acid more 
quickly than sugar; sugar more quickly than bitter; the rate 
for these various tastes in adaptive reactions being 0.384 sec, 
0.394 sec, 0.409 sec. and 0.456 sec. respectively. 

(4) Whereoverlapping of the mental processes is possible, there 
is a consequen t shortening of the reaction time. The mental pro- 
cesses do naturally overlap one another. Compare, for exam- 
ple, the time per word when reading one hundred words or letters 
with the time occupied in reading a single word or letter. Thus 
tlie time per word in reading 100 words is 0.255 sec. and the time 
required for a single word is 0.430 sec. The time per letter when 
100 letters are read is 0.224 sec, while the time required for a 
single isolated letter is 0.424 sec. Professor Cattell made a 
series of interesting experiments in this line by reading letters 
through a slit in a screen behind which letters moved across the 
field of vision. When the size of the slit was increased so that 
the number of letters visible at one time increased, the time for 
reading a single letter was greatly diminished. 



TIME RELATIONS OF MENTAL PHENOMENA. 369 

We have yet to speak of that form of reaction generally 
grouped under the rubric—" Association Time." A great many 
reactions must be viewed as responses to questions put by the 
experimenter to the person reacting. The reactions that are 
comprehended in this group certainly vary greatly in character. 
We here give some of them, that you may note the comparative 
quickness of the various reactions that come under this class. 
When the questions admit of more than a single answer, of 
course the reaction time is greatly lengthened. 

AssooiATioN Time for Various Judgments. 

SECONDS. 

To name the season when a month is given 0.248 

To name the country in which a given city is situated [Paris] 0.278 

To tell the language in which an author wTote [Goethe] 0.262 

To name a German wine 0.485 

To answer the question, "Who wrote Hamlet?" 0.958 

To tell which is the healthier, swimming or dancing 1.354 

To answer which is the more difficult, physics or chemistry? 1.500 

We close our necessarily brief discussion of this interesting 
subject of reaction time by submitting the following table, which 
gives in the terms of a second the average length of time required 
for some of our commonest mental judgments: 

SECONDS. 

To recognize the direction of a ray of light 0.011 

To recognize the color, when one of two, as red and blue, and ex- 
pected to be seen 0.012 

To recognize the direction of ordinary sounds 0.015 

To localize mentally, when blindfolded, any place on our body, 

touched by another person 0.021 

Mentally to judge a distance when seen 0.022 

To recognize the direction of loud sounds 0.062 

To recognize capital letters 0.180 

To recognize short English words 0.214 

To recognize pictures of objects 0.163 

To add single figures 0.170 

Given a month, to name its season 0.354 

To answer the question, "Who is greater, Virgil or Ovid?" 0.750 

To answer such questions as "Who wrote Hamlet?" 0.958 

To name a French writer 1.250 

L. P.— 24 



LESSON XXV. 

METHODS OF TESTING AND MEASURING THE MENTAL FAC- 
ULTIES, ESPECIALLY MEMORY AND ATTENTION 
IN SCHOOL CHILDREN. 

One of the most hopeful developments of modern Psychology 
is the attempt to attain exact measurements of the mental pro- 
cesses. This introduction of a more and more exact mode of 
regarding the mental phenomena is bound to have important 
practical effects upon the theory and practice of education. For 
no less than three reasons should the teacher undertake a syste- 
matic measurement of the faculties of his pupils. 

First, a collection of such comparative measurements is greatly 
needed in order that we may have a statistical basis for building- 
up a more exact Psychology of childhood. Thus, for example: 
If we wish to determine the order in which the various faculties 
unfold and develop, it is almost absolutely necessary that we be 
able to determine the date at which each particular faculty begins 
to acquire strength and manifest itself as a factor in the child's 
mental life. 

Second, this exact measurement of mental faculty is of exceed- 
ingly great importance in carrying out the work of teaching so as 
to attain the best results. The success of any school or any 
class depends to a great extent upon the arrangement of the 
pupils of that school or class according to their special capacities 
and respective powers. Every classification of pupils pre-supposes 
that the teacher has made an estimate of the child's abilities. 
The common method generally pursued is an oral examination 
or some written paper, which is, however, a very meager criterion 
by which to judge the child's real progress and mental develop- 
ment. These ordinary tests of the child's mental capacity are 
exceedingly crude and unreliable. If such methods were em- 
(370) 



TESTING THE MENTAL FACULTIES. 371 

ployed in the study of the various particular sciences, the con- 
clusions attained would be utterly valueless. It is, therefore, of 
the utmost importance, in order that the teacher may classify 
the pupils according to their real abilitj', that we have a more 
exact method of measurement of faculty. 

Third, by means of these exact mental tests we can find out 
just what is the defect that prevents the otherwise normal child 
from advancing in knowledge as he should. Whenever such a 
defect exists it ought to be known and provided for, yet it is 
certainly evident that many of these defects are deeply hidden 
and cannot be discovered unless we have some method of test- 
ing the children in various ways. Very frequently a child has 
been considered stupid when the real difficulty was obtuse 
hearing. More than once does a pupil find trouble in singing, 
an exercise which is becoming so prevalent in our public schools, 
when in fact he cannot tell two notes apart within an interval of 
a couple of tones. How exasperated some teachers become at the 
tlistorted drawings produced bysomeof theirpupils, when the real 
cause of this incapacity is an inherent defect in the child's power 
to estimate distances by the eye, which could only be removed 
by some special practice or instruction with reference to it. 

The prime object of measurement and testing children periodi- 
cally— for example, once a year — is to determine whether their 
minds are in proper condition for the school work that has been 
assigned to them, and also to discover whether there are any un- 
derlying defects of sensation or intelligence that must be guarded 
against in the course of instruction, and finally, to determine 
whether the child has developed at the proper rate. 

Another consideration tliat might be mentioned is that Psy- 
chology can never attain the certainty and exactness of the 
physical sciences unless it be founded upon experiment and meas- 
urement. A step in this direction, especially in the Psychology 
of childhood, can easily be made by applying a series of mental 
tests and measurements to a large number of individuals. These 
results are becoming more and more valuable, not only to the 
educator, but also to the student of Psychology, in that such 



372 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOOY. 

results throw much li^lit upon the mental processes, their inter- 
dependence and their variation under different circumstances. 
The more uniform these tests are, the more valuable they would 
be for purposes of comparing different school methods, different 
climatic influences, the effect of the time of da^^, etc. 

It is our purpose in this chapter to outline some simple experi- 
mental tests, such as every teacher may employ to advantage 
(with little or no apparatus), tests which will enable him to dis- 
cover the exact nature of the child's mind at any age, with a 
view to properly guiding it on its onw^ard course. The first test 
that we propose is a test of the condition of the auditory or ear 
memory. In this connection it would not be out of place to 
refer to that long series of experiments performed by Professor 
Ebbinghaus, of Berlin. 

Professor Ebbinghaus subjected himself daily for two years to 
a series of tests, in order to examine the powers of retention and 
reproduction. After reading through a list of meaningless syl- 
lables once he could remember (that is, recite without a fault) 
but seven. Sixteen readings were necessary to learn twelve syl- 
lables, forty-four readings to remember twenty-four, while to 
retain only two more, twenty-six, required fifty -five readings. 
The second day of restudying so as to remember a list of sixteen 
syllables saved a number of seconds very nearly proportionate 
to the number of readings on the first day. With an unlimited 
amount of study the experimenter could not retain these sixteen 
correctly twenty-four hours. At first it is much easier to forget 
such a senseless list than later on, the loss being measured by 
the number of seconds required for a second relearning; for exam- 
ple, if the first learning took one thousand seconds, the relearn- 
ing taking five hundred seconds, theloss between the two learnings 
would be one-half. During the first half-hour, half of the forget- 
ting seems to occur. To quote directly from his published results: 

"The initial rapidity, as well as the final slowness, as these 
were ascertained under certain experimental conditions, and for 
a particular individual . . . may well surprise us. An hour 
after the work of learning had ceased, forgetting was so far ad- 



TESTING THE MENTAL FACULTIES. 373 

vanced that more than half of the original work had to be 
applied again before the series of syllables could once more be re- 
produced. Eight hours later two-thirds of the original labor had 
to be applied. Gradually, however, the process of oblivion grew 
slower, so that even for considerable stretches of time the losses 
were but barely ascertainable. After twentj'^-four hours a third, 
after six days a fourth, and after a whole month a good fifth of 
the original labor remained in the shape of its after effects, and 
made the relearning bj^ so much the more speed3^" 

The question whether an idea can arouse another with which 
it was never in immediate contact — that is, without passing 
through the connecting links of ideas previously used — is among 
the many important queries raised by these researches. From 
the deductions which he made. Dr. Ebbinghaus was led to empha- 
size the statements that there are changes in the concentration 
of attention, and that theories and opinions unconsciously in- 
fluence the mind in its power of reproducing images. 

"Learning once a series of even sixteen 'nonsense-syllables' 
saves time on attempting to relearn this series, in whatever man- 
ner its members, when relearned, are related to each other." The 
strength of association, when estimated by this saving of time 
and relearning, is shown in the following table : 

Saving on time on relearning is, between contiguous members.. .33 spc. 

Saving on time on relearning is, skipping one syllable 10.8 " 

Saving on time on relearning is, skipping two syllables 7.0 " 

Saving on time on relearning is, skipping three syllables 5.8 " 

Saving on time on relearning is, skipping four syllables 3.3 " 

During his experiments in learning and relearning these "non- 
sense syllables " Ebbinghaus found indications of a remarkable 
rhythm in attention. "There is," bethinks, " a periodic oscillation 
of the mental susceptibility to intense concentration, in which ' the 
increasingfatigueseemsto vary about a gradually shifting middle 
position.' " Thus in eighty-four experiments with six sixteen-syl- 
lable series, the mean time for learning the first series was 191 
seconds; for the second, 224 seconds; for the third, 206 seconds; 



374 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

for the fourth, 218 seconds ; for the fifth, 210 seconds ; for the 
sixth, 213 seconds. 

These experiments of Frof. Ebbinghaiis have been verified by 
the more recent and extensive investigations of Prof. G. E. Miiller 
and Dr. F. Schumann, of the University of G()ttingen.* 

The test that we have in mind is nothing so complicated as 
set forth in the experiments of these scientists. It consists sim- 
ply in the reading of a number of meaningless syllables and series 
of consonants or numbers, and asking the child to repeat as many 
of them as he can remember. You will find here a series of tests 
that I employed, with the assistance of thirty or more teachers in 
the State of Illinois, in testing the auditory memory of school 
children. 

SCHOOL TESTS FOR THE AUDITORY MEMORY. 



(1) 


4 


9 


6 


3 


7 


5 


1 


8 


(2) 


7 


1 


5 


9 


4 


7 


2 


6 


(3) 


5 


7 


2 


6 


9 


4 


8 


3 


(4) 


2 


5 


8 


G 


4 


9 


7 


3 


(5) 


6 


8 


4 


7 


1 


9 


3 


5 


(6) 


9 


4 


7 


1 


5 


3 


6 


2 


(7) 


3 


5 


1 


6 


7 


9 


4 


8 


(8) 


8 


2 


9 


1 


5 


3 


4 


7 


(«) 


7 


2 


5 


9 


6 


8 


3 


1 


(10) 


5 


8 


7 


4 


9 


2 


6 


8 



* '^ Experimcntclle Beitrdgc zur Untcrsuchung cics Gcddehtnisscs" Leipzig, 1893. This 
valuable work reached me too late to permit of a resume here, which I greatly re- 
gret.— W. O. K. 



TESTING THE MENTAL FACULTIES. 375 

The first set of these tests is made up of the numerical digits. 
The teacher reads a single series, for example, these: 4, 9, 6, 3, 
7, 5, 1, 8. About ten seconds are employed in enunciating these 
numbers; immediately after they are read the child is asked 
to repeat as many of them as he can remember and in as nearly 
the same order as possible. The second series of tests here ap- 
pended is made up of letters, consonants only being employed, 
and the test was performed in the same manner. 

SCHOOL TESTS FOR THE AUDITORY MEMORY. 



(1) 


b 


k 


1 


z 


s 


d 


r 


n 


(2) 


t 


r 


z 


g 


h 


t 


c 


m 


(3) 


8 


g 


r 


t 


n 


k 


1 


d 


(4) 


t 


g 


d 


k 


X 


m 


z 


r 


(5) 


t 


d 


r 


1 


b 


k 


q 


n 


(6) 


1 


w 


t 


m 


P 


X 


k 


z 


(7) 


f 


g 


s 


1 


z 


d 


m 


b 


(8) 


q 


t 


r 


z 


1 


m 


P 


c 


(9) 


V 


d 


s 


z 


t 


n 


h 


g 


(10) 


f 


k 


r 


t 


1 


m 


g 


J 



Perhaps one child will remember five digits or letters, in that 
case his auditory memory is expressed as a fraction of thetaskset 
before him. If he remember six out of the eight members of the 
series, his grade for auditory memory would be six-eighths or 
75 per cent. Some one else will have remembered more or fewer, 
and his grade would of course be greater or less. 

These tests maj^ be modified for any grade of pupils as may be 



376 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

necessary. In the highest grade probably as many as ten or 
twelve digits or letters can be employed in each series ; in the 
middle school grades possibly no more than eight members 
should be embraced in a series. In the still lower grades it would 
be well not to employ more than six numbers in each series, and 
in the lowest grades even a short series should be read over 
three or four times, so that the child's powers may not be too 
heavily taxed. As a result of experiments such as herein indi- 
cated upon no less than 8,000 Illinois school children, I have 
reached the following conclusions : 

First. — The limit of the memory span for the pupils in the public 
schools of Illinois, in the grammar and high school grades is 
seven. 

Second. — This memory span indicates the power and concen- 
tration on the part of the pupil. 

Third.— The girls have better ear memories than the boys. 

Fourth.— The memory power of the ear increases with age rather 
than with the growth of intelligence, showing that actual expe- 
rience is much better as a factor of development in this line than 
books. 

Fifth.— With practice, the ability of the pupils to remember 
groups of digits or letters greatly increases. 

Sixth.— The experiments show that some of the pupils in our 
Illinois schools suffer from fatigue. This indicates that the work 
in certain schools is either very poorly arranged, or else excessive. 

Seventh.— TheBe memory images pass through three stages in 
leaving the mind. The first sign of a disturbed memory is a con- 
fusion of the order in which the letters or figures are given ; that 
is, the pupil does not remember the series in the precise order in 
which they were pronounced. Second, a loss of certain of the 
numbers entirely, and the substitution of other figures or letters 
for them ; and third, a complete loss of certain of the letters or 
figures. 

Eigbtb.-ldeas, or memory images at the ends of the series are 
better remembered than those which occur at the middle; for ex- 
ample, in the first of these numbered tests indicated above, the 



TESTING THE MENTAL FACULTIES. 377 

figures 4 and 9 at the beginning and 1 and 8 at the end of the 
series would be better remembered than the figure 3 or 7 at the 
middle of the series. If we find that the pupil cannot remember 
so well at noon as he could in the morning, and if he remembers 
still worse in the afternoon than he did at noon, we may conclude 
that he is either poorly nourished, or that the school work is 
fatiguing, and therefore excessive. 



The next test should be made upon the visual, or eye memory. 
For this purpose a line such as the one shown above may be 
used. I have several of these standard lines printed upon small 
bits of cardboard and distribute them. I then collect these cards 
and ask each child to select from memory a line that is the same 
length, out of agroupof five lines of various lengths, which I then 
place before him . If he have a good eye memory, he will have 
little difficulty in selecting the line of proper length. 

A similar test might be proposed in which various syllables 
might be placed upon a card in some convenient form. This card 
should be held up before the child for a few seconds, and he then 
asked to repeat as many of the syllables as he can remember. 

A third test might be advised in which visual, auditory and 
motor memory are combined. I hold up the card as before 
and he is to read the syllables or letters aloud. In this way 
the child not only sees and hears them, but moves the muscles of 
the larynx and tongue, which movement furnishes him with an 
additional memory clue. 

Another test that might be employed in any schoolroom may 
be called a test upon powers of visual comparison. 

Give to each child a clean card with nothing but a single hori- 
zontal line drawn thereon, like this : 



Ask him to bisect it exactly in the middle or as nearly so as 
possible, judging the middle point with the aid of the eye alone, 
no rule or measure being employed. As a matter of fact, no pupil 



378 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

will divide the line exactly at the middle point. The amount of 
error can then be measured by the use of a millimeter scale and 
calculated in per cent, with facility and accuracy. Now this ex- 
ercise not only tests the visual judgment or comparison, but it 
also cultivates accurate perception. Thechild observes more and 
more closely with each successive exercise and finally reaches ab- 
solute perfection in his judgments, and close attention is also 
induced. 

Draw a line— e. g-., six inches long, on the black-board. Ask all 
to observe it closely ; erase the line ; then ask your class to re- 
produce it— each draw a line as nearly as possible the same length 
as your original line. In the first exercise you will have lines of 
as many different lengths as you have pupils. Measure the error 
in each line, and calculate the grade of each pupil for visual mem- 
ory in per cents. Or to make it easier and more simple, draw 
the standard line as suggested above; then erase, then draw five 
lines of different lengths, one which is the same as the first or 
standard line, the other four various lengths, but each differing 
only a little from the standard line, being either a trifle longer or 
shorter. Number these lines, and then ask your pupils to select 
the one of the four which is like the original standard line which 
you drew and then erased. An attentive eye and a good visual 
memory certainly result from this cultivation. 

Fourth. — We should also test the muscle memory. This is the 
form of memory that every schoolboy uses in playing his games; 
e. g., in base ball every boy knows what it is that guides him 
when he "feels for the ball " with his bat. It guides every child 
in his simplest movements, such as walking, running, leaping, 
writing, and evensitting. How important then is its cultivation! 
A simple test, and at the same time a means for such cultivation, 
is found in the teacher's requesting each pupil to draw on the 
slate or blackboard a line of a certain length — e. g., four inches, 
then erasing the line, let him endeavor with his eyes closed to 
draw a similar line. The error can be measured in millimeters and 
calculated in per cents, for each pupil. 

We should also test the child's accuracy in touching a given 



TESTING THE MENTAL FACULTIES. 379 

point. I place before the child a card upon which there are several 
small dots and request him to touch one of the dots with a pen- 
cil, the arm beinj? held free above the desk. His hand will not 
move to the exact point which his will commands and he is sure 
to make some sort of an error. After he makes a dot, you can 
measure the error by taking a ruler or a pair of compasses esti- 
mating the distance between the original dot that you desig- 
nated for him to touch and the one actually made by the child. 

Another interesting test, but at the same time exceedingly 
simple, is to lay before the child a sheet of paper upon which there 
are two dots separated by a distance of from three to five inches. 
Ask him to connect the two by a straight line, the paper being 
so placed that such a line will necessarily be horizontal. To meas- 
ure the error of the child, for he surely will make an error, lay a 
straight ruler across the dots and you can easily detect the 
deviation from the true straight line. 

Thus I might go on and suggest a half-dozen tests for each of 
the ten or twelve senses. Tests for vision, hearing, taste, touch, 
temperature sense, pressure sense, sense of motion, and the like; 
but these that I have given will illustrate what is meant by 
the measurement of faculty. A few general statements are, how- 
ever, necessary. 

Two elements enter into all education — first, organism; second, 
environment. Both are of the greatest importance, both must 
be thoroughly studied. Any method of teaching that fails to 
consider the content of the child's mind on entering school and 
fails to take note of its tendencies to development must end in 
failure. Very often repressive measures that quite paralyze his 
nature are employed in order to adapt his organism to the envi- 
ronment, instead of adapting the environment to his organism. 

Again all education must begin with the education of the senses. 
Not any single sense but all of them, if you would have an evenly 
developed pupil. Too often we think we are teaching " observa- 
tional studies " if we appeal only to the eye, forgetting that there 
is an observation of the ear, of the finger, and of all the avenues 
of sense, as well as the eye. Furthermore, every pupil on entering 



380 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

school is one-sided in his development. His hand has been devel- 
oped at the expense of his eye, or his eye at the expense of his 
ear, and so forth. Now the teacher can, by means of such simple 
tests as those I have hinted at, tell just along what lines his 
pupil has been developed, apply the correctives and guide him 
accordingly. Thus it is that Experimental Psychology has jus- 
tified itself in offering a sure and exact method of investigation 
into the content of a child's mind with a view to its best 
development. 



LESSON XXVI. 

child-study: the basis op^ exact pedagogical method. 

The importance of the study of children is beginning- to be 
recognized as one of the prominent features in the search for 
practical methods to employ in the education of children. In for- 
mer years the study of educational methods was entirely confined 
to the study of mere theories; but little by little educators have 
come to see that after all it is of much more importance for teach- 
ers to study the minds of their pupils as they come into contact 
with them day by day in the schoolrooms. Never before in the 
history of education has the importance of the study of Psy- 
chology been recognized so widely as at the present time. Every 
teacher is inquiring as to the best and most helpful text-book for 
this particular line, thinking that a book will be able to supply 
the required need ; but scientific child-study means more than the 
hearing of lectures or the study of systematic Psychology as 
presented in the various formal text-books. Prof. Royce expresses 
the matter well when he says : " First, then, let the young teacher 
remember that it is not the system of psychological science nor 
the exhaustive theory of the power of the human mind that he 
needs, but rather the psychological spirit ; that is, the love and 
skill that are required for the purpose of mental diagnosis." 
While I would be the last to yield to an undervaluation of the 
study of Psychology in the formal way, I sincerely believe that 
the greatest practical benefit it can render to the teacher consists 
in the help that it can furnish him in his study of the child's mind. 
It is gratifying to know that this new zest for child study, this 
eagerness to make the child's mind an open page, is taking the 
precedence of all other discussions in our educational meetings. 
It is also a source of gratification, and encouragement as well, 

(381) 



382 PRACTICAL LESSONS L\ FSYCHOLOUY. 

that the study of children is the most practical of all possible 
studies, for it relates to the mental health and to the economy of 
human energy. Indeed, it is the only thing that can give an exact 
scientific basis to educational methods, for education means 
nothing more nor less than to make the finest specimen of man- 
hood and womanhood possible; to produce an individual rich in 
strength, developing the child to its fullest maturity in size and 
power. 

The question is often put: " Is there not great danger in allow- 
ing teachers to experiment upon children ? '' The answer of Colo- 
nel Parker cannot be improved upon : " Not a tithe of the danger 
there is in allowing supervisors to prescribe methods, and rigidly 
enforce the literal following of a course of study. The most awful 
experiment is to put a girl, fresh from the high school or a cram 
examination, without a scintilla of the art of teaching, or a faint 
suspicion of it, in chargeof fifty immortal souls; and next to that, 
even more awful if possible, to put a college graduate, chock full of 
conceit and of little else, at the head of a school. Thousands of 
schools are now in chargeof principals wliohave not the faintest 
idea how to direct and teach teachers. There must needs be experi- 
ments, but let us have those experiments which are prompted by 
an all-controlling desire to do good rather than the experiments 
of ignorance. The strongest influence of a teacher consists not in 
his teaching of itself, but in his attitude towards knowledge, and 
its relation to education. If the teacher is everlastingly in love 
with knowledge, if this love speaks in his eyes and charms in 
his manner, little else is needed to make his pupils lovers of 
knowledge. If the teacher is thoughtfully studying the needs 
of each of his pupils, and striving to apply the best conditions 
for the highest self-effort, he is not an experimenter in the com- 
mon acceptance of the term; the difler<>nce is world-wide be- 
tween an investigation in the sense of studying a profession 
and an experiment which implies the destruction of material 
used." 

The field of child study for the teacher comprises more than 
what is strictly included in the term " Psychology of Childhood." 



CHILD-STUDY. 383 

The teacher is, and must be interested in anj^hing that affects 
the child's activity, his growth, health, and ability to work. Such 
child study must include every investigation or observation of 
children that has any relation whatever to education. A new and 
simple method, much more practicable than that in vogue so long 
in Europe, in which the results were expressed in forms of compli- 
cated tables and unintelligible curves, is that devised by Principal 
E.H.Rus8ell,of the Worcester Normal School, It may now be em- 
ployed elsewhere, but it has been worked to the best advantage 
in this particular school, in which it had its origin about eight 
years ago. Professor Russell does not limit the field of observa- 
tion by proposing certain definite questions as to the habits, 
reasoning, feeling, likes and dislikes of the child, and so on; but 
prefers to have his corps of pupils and well-trained graduates 
note any salient act or remark of a child in an exact manner. 
These records are then filed at the normal school, placed in 
groups under certain convenient headings, such as imagination, 
memory, anger, fear, deceit, reasoning, etc. These topics extend 
over the whole domain of Psychology, and the best and most 
typical of these records are employed in teaching, instead of using 
a cut-and-dried text-book. To make them more practicable, as 
well as accessible to the uninitiated, Mr. Russell has avoided tab- 
ulating them, but is publishing them as they stand in short par- 
agraphs, where they can be cited by any one, on simply referring 
to certain numbers and chapters, as one would to a Bible verse. 
For example, under the chapter, "Reasoning of Children," you 
will find the following paragraph, numbered "204 : " 

[Child, rour years old.] E.'s mother is afraid of cats, and hates to 
touch them. E. did something, and his mother said she was going to 
whip him for it. When she said this, E. was standing near the door and 
he went out. In a few minutes he came in with the cat in his hands. He 
got very near to his mother, and then said, "Now, mamma, if you lick 
me, the cat will bite yon all up." Mother. — "E., let the cat go out." E. — 
"Will you lick me? If you do, I won't let the cat go, and he'll scratch 
you, if I tell him to." Mother.—" Well, I won't lick you if you let it go." 
E. let the cat go, and laughed for a long time ; and ever since then, if she 
says anything to him, he will say, "Mamma, I'll get the cat! " 



384 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

Under the rubric, "Imitation," we find such paragraphs as 

these : 

S. watched her children during a recess. " Two children began to play 
'see-saw' (a game in which children take each other's hands, and sway, 
back and forth in rhythmic motion). In about two minutes as many as 
34 out of 50 children began to play it." 

"I have been watching W. and L. for a number of months, and I find 
that, almost without exception, if one does anything, the other will imi- 
tate it. Both have small rocking-chairs, and if W. sits down in his chair, 
L. will also sit down in hers. If L. rolls marbles on the floor, W. will 
also." 

" Bessie was digging in the snow, and her cloak was unbuttoned and 
flying open. I said, 'Why, Bessie, why don't you button up your cloak?' 
She answered, 'Don't you see I'se working like a man, and mans has 
their coats unbuttoned?' " 

The collection of such data as these cannot help but have a 
most excellent effect upon teachers. Their attention is diverted 
from abstract themes and mystifying discussions, and focused 
upon the concrete child as he lives and moves and has his being 
in the average school. Indeed , the best result of this sort of work 
is the effect upon the teacher's own life and methods of instruc- 
tion, freshening him and keeping him in loving, conscious con- 
tact with the child he is endeavoring to lead. So noticeable has 
this been that Principal Russell makes the statement that the 
"practice of child study is directly for the sake of the teacher, 
indirectly for the sake of the child, and incidentally for the sake of 
science." The object of such study is best set forth in the official 
statement sent out by the school to former pupils who are 
now engaged in teaching work, as well as to others interested in 
this sort of investigation : "The Principal requests the students 
to observe the conduct of children in all circumstances — - at 
home, at school, in the street, at work, at play, in conversation 
with one another and with adults— and record what they see and 
hear as soon as circumstances will permit. When the nature 
of the work is explained to the school, great emphasis is placed 
upon the necessity of having the records genuine beyond all pos- 
sible question ; of having them consist of a simple, concise state- 
ment of what the child actually does or says, without comment 



CHILD-STUDY. 385 

by the writer; of making both the observation and the record 
without the knowledge of the child; and of noting the usual, 
rather than the unusual, conduct of the individuals observed. 
For convenience in classification, blanks of five colors are pro- 
vided for the records. White paper is used for such observations 
as students make themselves ; red for well-attested ones reported 
by others; yellow for reminiscences of their own childhood ; green 
for mention of whatever they read on the subject ; and chocolate 
for observations that extend continuously over a period oftime." 

About 15,000 such reports have been made, and, as we have al- 
ready intimated, among them are recorded many interesting and 
valuable observations. The teacher in making these observations 
has become thoroughly interested in the varied activities of the 
child. As Professor Burnham well says, "This work cannot be 
commended too highly as a means of bringing the young teacher 
into relations of interest and sympathy with children." 

We must now allude to the subject of measurement, or an- 
thropometry, as applied to the growing child. Professor Bowditch, 
of the Harvard Medical School, took the weight and height of 
25,000 Boston pupils. He found that until the age of eleven or 
twelve, boys are taller and heavier than girls. The girls then be- 
gin to grow more rapidly and for the next few years surpass boys 
in growth, height and weight. The boys, however, soon overtake 
and surpass them and thereafter remain taller and heavier. It 
was also found as a result of these measurements that children of 
American parents are taller and heavier than children of foreign 
parents, and Dr. Bowditch makes the practical suggestion that 
mental effort be reduced during this period of rapid growth. Dr. 
Peckham, Superintendent of the Milwaukee City Schools, when 
Secretary of the State Board of Health, measured 10,000 Wiscon- 
sin children. Among other conclusions he makes the following: 
The growth of the body and of the lower extremities takes place 
in such a way that the strength of the body of girls is less than 
of the body of boys until the tenth year, and thereafter greater 
until the sixteenth year. From 15 to 18 the bodies of girls grow 
only two inches and the bodies of boys over four inches. Meas- 

L. p.— 2.5 



386 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

urements much more complicated than these have been devised 
by Dr. Franz Boas, who has made accurate statistics from meas- 
urements of six large American cities, over 30,000 children being 
measured in St. Louis alone. These results were presented in 
graphic form at the Chicago Exposition in the Anthropological 
building, and are now being published. 

In 1892, Dr. W. Townsend Porter began a series of investi- 
gations upon the children in the St. Louis schools, with a view 
to determining whether or not there is a physical basis of 
precocity and dullness. These investigations extended over a 
period of eleven weeks, and included measurements of weight, 
height, length and breadth of the head, vital capacity of the 
chest, acuteness of vision, and many others— no less than 
33,500 boys and girls being examined and measured. The 
great store of facts thus secured has been used to determine 
the laws of the normal growth of St. Louis children, in the 
hope that, on such a sound basis, there may be established 
a system of grading which may take into account the physical 
capacity of the pupil in the assignment of school tasks. 
Only when the laws of growth are accurately known, is it 
possible to decide vv'ith certainty how much the growth of an 
individual exceeds or falls below the normal average; and with- 
out this knowledge, the regulation of mental labor, from a phys- 
ical standpoint, is a venturesome groping in the mist, rather 
than a scientific deduction. Of all methods, none is more useful 
than weighing; partly because it is easy to weigh, and partly 
because weight has a more intimate relation to strength. The 
weight, in fact, may be looked upon as an indication of physical 
development. By weighing. Dr. Porter sought to answer 
three questions: Are there dull children, who are in the main 
weaker; and precocious children, who are stronger than the aver- 
age child? Is there a physical basis for precocity and dullness? 
Is mediocrity of the mind associated, in the main, with medioc- 
rity of physique? All of these questions, as results of his thorough- 
going investigation, are answered by Dr. Porter in the affirm- 
ative. The truth which the investigations exhibit is very plain. 



CHILD-STUDY. 387 

They declare in unmistakable ^YOI■(l8 that precocious children are 
heavier, and dull children lighter than the average child of the 
same age. These investigations establish a physical basis of pre- 
cocity and dullness. A deduction of the greatest pra(?tieal im- 
portance is made from the laws established by tliis interesting 
piece of research work : No child, whose weight is below the aver- 
age of its age, should be permitted to enter a school gradebeyond 
the average of its age, except after such a physical examination, 
as shall make it probable that the child's strength shall be equal 
to the strain. Incidentally, it was also shown that children have 
too many hours in the schoolroom, especially in primary grades. 
Three hours a day are enough for pupils in the first three grades. 
Three morning hours in the schoolroom, and two afternoon hours 
spent in study, would greatly enhance the quality of the work done. 

It is interesting to note that more children are measured in 
this country than in any other, but it is not being carried on so 
well, so scientifically, so accurately as in France and Germany; 
but enough in the way of results has been secured to show that 
each part of the body has its own nascent periods or growing 
fits. Growth focuses now upon one set of organs and functions 
and now upon another. The eye, hand, arm, chest, fingers and 
other organs and functions each have nascent periods, during 
which they grow far more than for a long time before or after. 
Do not nag a child with methods at the time of rapid growth. 
Turn him loose, permitting him in a measure to roam at will, 
following his most natural impulses, assuming as few trying men- 
tal burthens as possible. 

Another subject of investigation that will be most fruitful of 
results is the study of fatigue. Fatigue, we know, arises from 
over-exertion, either mental or physical. It varies with the con- 
dition of the mind and body. Thus the child tires sooner when 
the work is distasteful, or when the organs are unhealthy, or 
when the body is poorly nourished ; and the body is also wearied 
quicker when the mind is tired, and the mind more quickly when 
the body is tired. For the conclusions of experimental investi- 
gation into the subject of the influence of bodily fatigue and men- 



388 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOOT. 

tal fatigue upon each other, I need only refer you to the account 
on page 43. The child tires more readily at some seasons than 
at others. The condition of the atmosphere, the weather, the time 
of day, all these affect the normal power of endurance. Also rapid 
growth, as already intimated, diminishes one's power of endur- 
ance. The child that has grown up too quickly tires easily. 
One of the early effects of fatigue is in the difficulty of fixing and 
holding the attention. The condition of the strain brought upon 
the will in compelling the attention makes work fatiguing; the 
mind being thus taxed, a conflict between what it feels has to be 
done and a preference for something else is continually going on, 
and this strife involves a worthless expenditure of energy and a 
waste of time. Fatigue causes the mind to be less sensitive 
to interest or novelty. The mind of the tired child may be 
active, but at the same time it is scattered and poorly directed. 
The great curse of this age is the demand for rapid education. In 
the hurry to go through college and complete a university course, 
many a person is sacrificing the very thing for which they seek, 
namely, the power to think and do. Certainly the results that 
ensue in consequence of over-pressure in the town and city schools 
are criminal. Superintendents, teachers and parents push and 
crowd the children through a long, hard year's work. Health is 
sacrificed for promotion, and the joyous, buoyant child is bur- 
dened with unnatural demands until such a thing as natural 
mental spontaneity is unknown. What is learned when a child is 
fatigued is soon lost, the mind's forces being easily dissipated. 
Vital force is required faster than it is generated. The work done 
to-day is done on to-morrow's credit, and the system of the child 
is wholly at a loss to protect itself against disease and accident. 
Some physicians go so far as to say that most diseases have their 
genesis in fatigue. There is no doubt that constant tension kills 
not only joy, but growth. When work is performed by a fatigued 
mind and tired brain, bad mental habits cannot help being formed. 
Continual over-pressure in childhood certainly means weakened 
possibilities in adult hfe. Whatever filters through the mind of 
the tired (.hild must, of course, receive thereby a coloring. Every 



CHILD-STUDY. 389 

one of our thoughts, all ot our actions, our plans, our hopes, our 
ambitions and aims are conditioned by our moods, and these 
moods are directly dependent upon bodily feeling. The great 
demand of the age is that we find and establish a science of 
resting. 

Dr. Burnham of Clark University has classified the study 
of children under two great heads, (a) Anthropological studies, 
and {h) Psychological studies. Under the first must be included 
the investigations in regard to growth and health of school chil- 
dren, such as those of Bowditch, Porter and Peckham already re- 
ferred to. The Psychological studies fall into three subdivisions : 
first, the study of sensations; second, the study of the higher 
intellectual processes ; and third, the study of the motor life of the 
child. In the sensory field the child's power of vision, hearing, 
tasting, and smelling should be accurately tested. The most 
thorough-going investigation has probably been made upon the 
sense of hearing. As a result of the practical investigations in 
this line, Dr. Barr gives several very good suggestions, of which 
we have space for but four : 

1. Teachers should keep in view the fact that in every class of 
fifty children, there are probably a dozen or more of them who 
have some defect of hearing, and who are, therefore, placed at a 
disadvantage as compared with their normally hearing fellows. 

2. Children whose hearing is very defective, or who are totally 
deaf, should be taught in a separate class by the German method 
of articulate speech and lip reading. 

3. In the caseof children whose progress is unsatisfactory, and 
who are inattentive, dull and idle, their capacity of hearing 
should be determined hj proper tests, and if defective hearing is 
found, information of the fact should be sent to the parents, and 
their position in the class so arranged as to minimize the bad 
effects of the defective hearing. 

4. The class room should never exceed twenty feet in length or 
breadth, or better, a parallelogram of 25x15 feet. The teacher 
should be at the middle of one of the short sides of the parallelo- 
gram, and the number of scholars in one room should never ex- 



390 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

ceed fifty. If, as is frequently the case, the teacher stands in the 
center of the long side of a parallelogram, the children to the 
extreme right and left are badly situated for hearing. 

The study of intellectual processes would include the investi- 
gation of their power of memory, imagination, reasoning and 
the like. Without question the best piece of work that has been 
done in this line is the study of memory made by Mr. Bolton of 
Clark University, upon children in the Worcester schools.* 

In the motor field are included all the studies of children's 
languages, their plays, manual work, kindergarten occupations, 
the development of voluntary control over their motions. The 
most systematic study yet made of motor ability is that pub- 
lished by Professor W. L. Bryan. He found that the modifica- 
tions induced by fatigue are greater tlian improvements due to 
age; that a child of sixteen, e. g., could tap with the pencil five 
times as fast as the child of six ; that the rate of such motion de- 
clined at the age of fourteen in boys, and at thirteen in girls ; but 
was preceded in both by a rapid and followed by a less rapid 
increase. 

It is a source of deep regret that the average teacher addresses 
himself to the stupid rather than to thebright pupils of the class. 
In our traditional methods we are accountable for great mental 
waste, in that we retard and stunt the bright child in order to 
keep pace with the slow one. It is possible to advance the brighter 
half faster than we do. It can and should be done. In Paris a 
few years ago, eighteen average boys were selected and a number 
of average teachers chosen to guide them in their studies. These 
teachers said : "Let us do the best thing possible for these boys. 
Let us help them the most we can." As a result of their pains- 
taking efforts these boys went through the six years of the 
Lyceein two and otip-1 ml f years, without the slightest trace of 
physical impairment. If we have learned that there is such a 
thing as mental waste, we should remember, too, that there are 
also certain great principles of mental economy. 

We should reconstruct all on the basi.s of the child. The living, 



*'-Americau Journal of Psychology," April, 1S02. 



CHILD-STUDY. 391 

playing, romping, rollicking child embodies a truly elementary 
Psychologj^, and every great educational reformer who has 
spoken authoritatively, has been a person who lived for years in 
closest touch with children. Teachers, as a rule, fail to study the 
nature of the child in a thorough-going way, for no less than 
three reasons : (a) They regard it their business to impart in- 
struction, or infuse information, rather than to "e-ducate" or un- 
fold, [b) They are conceited enough to think that they havesuffi- 
cient knowledge of childhood in their own remembered experiences 
of their early years, forgetting that these few tattered, musty 
remnants are incidental rather than characteristic, (e) Many 
think a text-book on Psychology supplies the need. This is the 
gravest mistake a teacher can possibly make. 

In the discussion of the value of different studies, take for ex- 
ample, the controversy that has so long been waged between 
those who believe that Greek and Latin should be retained in the 
curriculum, and those who do not. Has this momentous ques- 
tion ever been discussed on the basis of the real nature of the 
child? If we take the point of view of those who indorse the 
study of the ancient languages, what a waste of time and educa- 
tive power there is for the modern courses of study, which draw 
at least three-fourths of the pupils in the public schools of this 
great national commonwealth ! On the other hand, if we take the 
opposite view-point, we find ourselves raising a hue and cry over 
the waste of time and opportunity going on in colleges and pre- 
paratory schools over dead languages, no longer of practical 
use. The ringing words of our wide-awake Commissioner of Edu- 
cation, Dr. William T. Harris, should be heeded by all interested 
in curriculum-making : " It is indeed high time that the collective 
mind of the fraternity of educators should be turned to the sub- 
ject of educational values."* 



*" Educatioual Review," January, 1894. 



APPENDIX. 

THE KINDEKGARTEN AND CHILD DEVELOPMENT. 

[The following chapter was written by Miss Kate Carj', the director of 
the kindergarten at Champaign, Illinois, the seat of the State University. 
Miss Cary was one of those in charge of the Model Kindergarten in the 
Illinois Building at the World's Fair from May to August. That she is 
not only a successful kindergartner, but a keen psychological student as 
well, is clearly shown by the context of this article, for which the author 
is under great obligations.] 

Fkcebel based education ou unity. He desired to show the 
child the world as a whole and to see himself as a part of that 
great whole. Living in perfect harmony with all things, subor- 
dinating himself to the welfare of his fellow-men, to see law in 
nature, in spirit, and in man who connects both. 

And this he would have developed through self-activity in the 
child, not meaning that the child shall learn only by what he 
does himself, but that his whole self, every phase of his being, 
shall be active and alive in receiving and giving. 

And to carry out this all-sided development of head, heart and 
hand, he has given us games, songs, gifts and occupations to 
awaken every faculty of the child, and through the medium of 
play, connect the unknown with the known. And it is this spirit 
of play in the kindergarten that has caused the unthinking mind 
to call it a good place of amusement for children, only admitting 
its true value in cases where children have little or no training at 
home. 

That it is a good thing for the poor, neglected child of the 
streets I gladly agree ; but is it not true that the child of wealth, 
allowed only the freedom of the nursery's four walls, is quite as 
much to be pitied as the less-cared-for child of povertj^? 

Go from a kindergarten of waifs into one of more fortunately 
(392) 



APPENDIX. 393 

born children, and see the marked difference in self-denial and gen- 
erous thought for others, and then say that the little ones of 
wealthy parents do not need the development of the kindergarten . 

I care not whether a child comes from a home of love or neg- 
lect, it is the atmosphere of sympathy in the kindergarten that 
opens his heart and helps him to display the true nature. Here 
it is that he meets children of different homes, of different types, 
having various characteristics, making for him a community in 
which all hold equal rights. It is where he first learns law — law 
according to his age. All our children, rich or poor, high or low, 
fall under the same group of mental and moral laws. Nature 
made only one set of educational laws, as she made only one kind 
of sunshine. It is a place of experiences, where he gets the presen- 
timent of the life that lies before him. The kindergarten is his, 
he feels the importance and responsibility which give him the 
self-respect necessary to growth of character. 

It is not only that the mother's time is occupied with house- 
hold cares, social duties and the physical needs of her child; the 
mother at home with one, two, or perhaps three children though 
she be born and bred a kindergartner, cannot do for them what 
the kindergarten can with its twenty-five. I would not have the 
home life left outside the kindergarten door, nor the kindergar- 
ten life left inside; they should be parts of the great whole, one 
strengthening the other, and experience shows this to be true. 

Watch a few carefully reared children enter a kindergarten in 
October, and follow them until June and see the change, if the 
kindergarten be a true one, and I would speak of no other. The 
selfish, peevish child has been led to submit to the other twenty; 
the self-conscious child is made unconscious, the weak becomes 
stronger, and all have learned to obey the laws set for them, and 
are made more capable of filling their places in the larger world. 
One by one come to their little minds the principles of love, justice 
and beauty, and they are made free. Its reaction in the poor 
districts is of course much greater. It not only affects the child 
and family, but the entire neighborhood. I have seen some of 
the hardest eyes soften as they watched the happy babes at 



394 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

work, and eyes, where tears had long since ceased to flow, moisten 
at the song of forty or fifty little ones seated about the circle. And 
the kindergarten window filled with plants will catch the eye of 
every passer-by and allure the lowest to stop for a minute. The 
mothers tell us they can no longer use harsh words since the 
kindergartner does not. 

The visits of the kindergartner bring great pleasure and pride 
to the parents, and I have been into rooms where the only orna- 
ments were the well-preserved work of the child at kindergarten. 
The marked condition of improvement shown each year in the 
children's body and clothes tell that the kindergarten has crept 
into the homes to stay. 

The deepest truths of humanity are revealed in the methods of 
the kindergarten. Froebel saw in each child all of the germs of 
the coming man. He saw that the development of each individ- 
ual depended upon a law, the law of continuity, each succeeding 
phase arising from a preceding one and depending upon it. He 
saw that ever^^where in nature, life and growth seemed to be a 
gradual change from a lower state to a higher with no breaks; 
and he saw, too, that everything in nature had its own individual 
method of development, and to force it this way or that would 
either hurt or kill, but to wisely prune brought perfection. And 
so with the child who manifests characteristics as many and varied 
as his physical ailments, each one is worthy of being recog- 
nized and given fair play. And this can be accomplished only by 
the freedom allowed in the kindergarten. He would have us 
lead the child into a happy, receptive mood and then let him re- 
ceive, for when the ground is ready, seeds of all kinds easily ger- 
minate, in obedience to rules. Loveand harmony will beexpressed, 
because felt. Upon asking a University girl, who was fortunate 
in having had both home and kindergarten training, what made 
the most lasting impression upon her, she said that the beautiful, 
harmonious atmosphere which pervaded the kindergarten room 
could never be effaced from her memory. 

With children, awakening and cultivating the love of the beau- 
tiful furnishes a better ethical basis than moralizing. The story 



APPENDIX. 395 

with a deep hidden meaning is felt without the tacking on of the 
moral. One of the apparently worst of boys that I ever saw would 
stand morning after morning in deep thought before a picture of 
the Mother and Child on the kindergarten wall, conscious for the 
time of nothing else about him, and over his face would come a 
most beautiful smile, onlytoend insomelowword when he found 
the eyea of another child upon him. One morning his eyes were 
caught by the picture of Raphael's Cherubs, and he whispered to 
his brother, "Roy, I see angels, one's looking at me and one 
aint." From that time a new life sprang up within him, which 
slowly but surely strengthened, and he left the kindergarten a dif- 
ferent child, a marvel to his parents and neighbors. 

The desire of the kindergartner is to find the good, strengthen 
and develop it by self-activity, and let the bad fade away, dying 
of atrophy; not keeping the child always out of harm's way, but 
getting the love of right deeply rooted. Then wrong may come, 
the child is safe. 

Forms of beauty are used to cultivate the taste for the 
l)eautiful. Color is taught to cultivate observation, to develop, 
strengthen and purify the life of the child by lifting him out of 
himself and leading him to see and feel beauty in nature and art, 
and to strive after that which is high and noble. The greatest 
task of our times is that of giving each young person a first im- 
pulse toward the world of truth, beauty and right; but these 
will be nothing to the child until it has learned to love something. 
Frcebel saw this and so he said , take the child at the symbolic 
age of three years, and give it a chance to play with forms, tasks 
and ideas which are symbols of the utility and beauty to be met 
with in after life. 

And so the kindergarten meets the child on its own ground — 
the ground of play. And it is this freedom of play and self-activ- 
ity that gives the kindergartner insight into the child's inner na- 
ture and affords her the opportunity of seeing in what the child 
is weak. Underthishead of play would come the presenting of new 
thoughts in an attractive manner, the value of which is so forci- 
bly illustrated in the kindergarten. For example, thefall thought 



396 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

of the seeds, so wonderfully cared for by Mother Nature, pre- 
sented by a simple truth, clothed in an attractive manner and 
connecting the thought with the child's own life and experience, 
will arouse the most intense interest Little "seed cradles " and 
"treasure boxes" will be brought to kindergarten as long as 
King Winter leaves any uncovered — some such tiny treasures, 
that an older person would discover them with difficulty, which 
show how the eyes of the child have been opened to the beauties 
growing by the wayside. And when spring comes, what bound- 
less pleasure is expressed in taking off the coat of the soaked pea 
or bean and finding the baby inside so carefully provided for— 
plenty of food and warmth to keep it alive until it is time to be 
born. In presenting the thoughtinthis way, the child sees the life 
about him, not as a separate thing, but as a part of the great 
whole of which he is but another phase. 

I once saw a kindergartner take up a pot of earth in which was 
growing clover — the seeds having been planted by the children 
some days before — and calling one of the children to her, asked 
him to pull up a few of the little plants, for they were growing too 
thickly. In response, his hands crept back of him and were 
tightly clasped, while his head shook no ; and in wonderment he 
looked up into the face of the kindergartner, whom he wanted to 
please, every feature asking how she could expect him to do a 
thing so cruel to a little life he hnd helped give birth, and care- 
fully tended for days. Need we fear for that child's future? 
How the child's spiritual eyes are being trained as he searches 
on his way to kindergarten, to see what nature has that will 
give pleasure to the other children. The song of "Come, Lit- 
tle Leaves," will fill the room in a short time with leaves wearing 
the most gorgeous dresses of red, gold, or brown, like "Mary's 
dress " or " Joe's tie." It is a happy morning when one boy who 
has needed an extra amount of sympathy in lessons of nature, 
calls out that he " didn't know leaves growed so nice." 

A mother was heard to complain because that "foolish kinder- 
garten did nothing but teach her child to hunt flowers and leaves, 
and when she took liim out for a walk, he was so intent upon 



APPENDIX. 397 

finding new colors and forms that he did not ' keep up.'" Oh, 
mothers! let your children lag behind in the walk, but not alone. 
Give them your sympathy, for they are advancing in a much 
more important walk, than the one they started out to take. 

Besides the deep impression made upon the mind by a thought 
presented in a pleasing manner, an infinite amount of time is saved. 
In visiting a primary school I saw the teacher trying to make 
children of eight and nine years realize that blue and yellow mixed 
produce green, by merely telling them the fact— the words went in 
one ear and out of the other, as I found upon questioning the next 
day. The child in the kindergarten is given a little yellow paint, 
and a little blue, and is told nothing. He mixes them, and after 
many exclamations paints his leaf — the fact has come to stay. 

Objects talked about in the kindergarten are examined indi- 
vidually, each child thinking and expressing thoughts for him- 
self, and this disposition to attack and wrestle with a thing — 
which I am told is a marked characteristic of the kindergarten child 
when he enters school — is strengthened by making the child first, 
keeping it in the foreground, and the director in the back ; this 
makes the child think his own way and develops him by means 
of his own activities. The great need of the child is for him to 
be led to work by himself, with skillful guidance, and wise encour- 
agement and recognition of his efforts. The schoolteacher often 
complains of the child's "tiresome why," and desire for recogni- 
tion for his well-doing. Is not the first his right, which ought 
never to be killed? And as to the latter, do we not ourselves all 
feel the need of recognition of some sort in return for a great 
effort made? The true kindergartner only gives her smile or nod 
when the effort has cost the child something. 

The object lessons in the kindergarten do not stand merely for 
the study of things, but for the thought back of the thing. The 
seed is not examined for the sake of that one seed, but to show 
the care of Nature and to lead the child to see all the great work 
done by her careful, loving hand. So with the squirrel that gives 
the child so much pleasure ; it is not simply this little four-legged 
animal that lives on nuts and makes his home in the trees, but 



398 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOny. 

the thoufrht of an industrious fellow, storing up food for the 
winter, always busy, never idle, hence happy. And so in color, 
the child is not taught that the npplo is red, or lemon yellow, 
only as belonging to the apple and lemon , but to open his eyes to 
nil color and to universalize it. 

The games in the kindergarten play an important part, we 
might almost say the important, if there were any one part of 
more consequence than another. Excepting the child , they consti- 
tute the important feature of the kindergarten. Through the 
the games muscles of the body are brought into play, and by de- 
veloping muscular force the will is strengthened ; and grace and 
beauty of mind and spirit increase in proportion to physical grace. 
For we know it is one of the demonstrated truths in modern Psy- 
chology that body and mind are under reciprocal relations — that 
body acts on mind and mind acts on body. Every mental act 
leaves its impress upon the physical organism, and every bodily 
modification in turn affects the mmd in its activity, growth and 
development. In these games, so simple to the casual observer, 
the child is developing gentleness, self-sacrifice, self-reliance, 
promptness, courtesy, freedom of thought and action. And these 
same games bring the children into close union, and develop a 
mutual dependence and sympathy; they foreshadow and present 
great truths. The various family relations, duties and moral 
virtues are strongly inculcated. In what way can a deeper love 
for, and clearer mental picture of the birds and animals be ob- 
tained than by the child's representing them in the games at the 
circle? The many trade games reproduced in the kindergarten 
tend to quicken the child's sympathy with his fellow-men. 

Then comes state life, with George Washington as a type of 
strength and beauty. How can a stronger lesson in patriotism 
be imparted than by making the child acquainted with the flag? 
Ashe bears this eml)lem of his country in the marches he is insen- 
sibly being trained for patriotic service. One is interested to 
know that in New York City at certain schools one of the first 
lessons taught the young children of the foreigners is to respect 
the flag of the United States. Accordingly they salute it at the 



APPENDIX. 399 

beginning of each day's work. This, accompanied by right teach- 
ing, will result in stronger love for country. 

Following the state life is the church life, and spring, symbolic 
of life and resurrection, is developed by the child representing in 
his own way the seed and its growth, the worm and its awaken- 
ing into a butterfly, and the returning of the migratory birds. 
Sharing the life of nature and of man, the child feels himself one 
with both. 

The sense games serve an important function in the develop- 
ment of the child. His senses become wonderfully sharp and 
acute by means of the exercises accompanied by bright, attract- 
ive words set to good music. They give him endless pleasure 
and help him to express in definite terms the impressions made. 
Allowing the child to glance for a minute at a collection of ob- 
jects and then letting him tell what he has seen, strengthens 
memory as well as sight; looking at a picture in the same way; 
guessing which child has left the ring; giving them mild contrasts 
in smell and taste (mild that these easily fatigued senses may 
not become overtaxed); objects to feel of; kinds and direction of 
sound ; finding things to loud and soft music, or telling a play- 
mate by his voice or step — in such ways the little ears are trained 
to hear and the eyes to see much more quickly and accurately than 
our dull, untrained senses. And this habit of contrasting smell, 
taste and sound will not end with material things, but be carried 
on into higher contrasts. Judicious direction inthesesense games, 
as in all else in the kindergarten, must be exercised. If played 
too long the child becomes tired, and inattention and dissipation 
of the mental forces will result. The games of contrast, of smell, 
taste and sound are illustrated in the gifts by contrasts of color, 
form, size, number, relation, direction and position. Their 
purpose is to foreshadow and prepare the way for truth, to 
present striking contrasts, to acquaint the child with normal 
types and to develop creative activity. By means of the gifts 
the child is led to analyze, abstract, compare, and classify, of 
conrse unconsciously and through play. In them Froebel has 
met every desire of the child. Beginning with the ball from its sim- 



400 PRACTICAL LESSONS LX PSYCHO LOGY. 

plicity and unity, he leads out to the sphere, cube and cylinder, 
which stand as types of the animal, vegetable and mineral king- 
doms, offering contrasts of form. From this he goes to the di- 
vided cube, which meets two strong tendencies of the child, to in- 
vestigate and reconstruct. The first divided cube presents con- 
trasts in size, the second contrasts in division, the third contrasts 
of angles, and the fourth repeats and emphasizes the contrasts 
of the preceding gifts. 

The significance of these divided units lies in the relationship 
of parts to each other and to the whole. Their essential object 
is to develop the constructing powers of the child, thus counter- 
acting the destructive tendencies which would develop unduly 
were investigation alone provided for. They offer illustrations of 
fractional parts; halves, fourths, and eighths become clear with the 
right use of the cube divided into eight smaller cubes and those 
divided into eight oblongs, while the cubes of the fifth and sixth 
gifts by their larger number of divisions illustrate thirds and 
ninths, also halves, quarters, sixths, twelfths, and twenty-sev- 
enths. With the tablets more subtle contrasts in form are pre- 
sented. By means of sticks of various lengths any number of 
exercises may be given in counting, adding, multiplying and 
snbtracting. A little fellow once replied to his kindergartner, 
who said she didn't suppose he could count four, "T didn't, 1 
seed two sticks and two sticks and I thinked four." All of these 
exercises are done through play, at first to arouse interest in the 
relations of numbers; later, mechanical drill may be given with 
great delight to the child. 

The child gets the rudiments of geometry in making the differ- 
ent forms with his gifts, connecting them at first with some 
familiar object — searching for them about the room, out of 
doors, at home, and when quite familiar with a form is told its 
name. For example, the honey-comb is examined, then repre- 
sented with the fifth gift, tablets and sticks, sewn on card -board, 
drawn and painted until the child has a good mental picture of 
it and can tell in good language how he made it and of what it is 
composed. The gifts are a " key to the inner world and adoorto 



APPENDIX. 401 

the outer." What a child has taken in he^iyesbacktothe world 
through his fingers by means of the gifts, before he is capable of 
expressing in words. The child must know the things that words 
describe before he can give expression to them . 

The contrast of color, form, size, number, etc., illustrated in 
the gifts, are applied in the occupations — which are more or less 
imitative at first, for the child must be master of his material 
before he can use it as a means of expression ; but just as soon 
as he is strong enough, he is given material to carry out in his 
own individual way, impressions made by the gifts. And that is 
why clay and sand are so valuable to the child ; he feels himself 
master of that pliable material from the start, and finds delight 
in producing a mental picture in the clay every time he is given 
a chance. And the products are often so full of life that you mar- 
vel at the clear thought of the child. He absorbs from the occupa- 
tions, principles of industrial and art education; he sees propor- 
tion and harmony of colors, and learns to look for them in all 
that surrounds him. 

No bent bodies are allowed, the fingers become more skillful. 
In the gifts and occupations the ability to use both the right and 
left hand is developed. The desire for neatness, order and accu- 
racy is strengthened and no careless work is accepted . 

The quiet, orderly way of working with the gifts and occupa- 
tions assists in quiet, orderly thinking. Doing truth with the 
fingers will help the child to act and feel truth in his soul. This 
continuity of thought in story, song, game, gift and occupa- 
tion in the kindergarten, strengthens the child's powers of 
concentration. His interest is aroused at the opening circle, 
and each game, each task, and each thought, bears upon the 
topic for the day or week. The dictation in the gifts and occupa- 
tions carrying on the thought of the day is simple and within 
the child's power, and teaches him to hear. It is amazing to see 
the stupidity with which young ladies in the training class take 
such dictation as that given young children. The child's interest 
grows deeper with each effort made, and he falls quietly and hap- 
pily to work. The material used in carrying out a thought is so 



402 PRACTICAL LESSONS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 

varied — each day being different — that the child does not become 
fatigued, and in the use of the gifts he is never allowed to tire of 
them; he is given dictation fifteen minutes, and is allowed free 
play for the same length of time, so that each week the child wel- 
comes the gifts as he would a new toy. 

Statistics show that this concentration of thought is not 
dropped in the kindergarten, but follows the child in all his future 
work. The kindergarten children are said by school teachers ' ' to 
know how to talk." This is simply because they have been allowed 
free expression of all the impressions made, under the careful guid- 
ance of the kindergartner. The child who enters the primary 
school from the kindergarten, is said by the majority of teachers 
to have greater power of attention, is more obedient to the rules, 
school life not being so new as to a child fresh from home; and the 
bashfulness which keeps some children months from learning, and 
cannot claim from the busy school teacher the attention neces- 
sary to help the child, is entirely overcome in kindergarten. 
Other teachers say the child is more active, wanting to be kept 
busy and interested, and is hard to make conform to the rigid 
rules of the public schools. 

But all, I believe, are of one mind in maintaining that the 
kindergarten child is brighter, more self-reliant, is able to express 
himself better, and has the power of observation most strongly 
developed. He does not dash ahead of the others, but is given 
a slow, happy, healthful awakening into school life, and the 
interest awakened keeps him alive, and ready to grapple with 
new thoughts that make other children tremble. 

If the kindergarten did nothing but give the child self-confi- 
dence, it would be doing its full share. 



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